


Never Trust A Fox

by Gold_On_The_Ceiling_42



Series: Stiles Winchester [4]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Did I forget anyone?, Stiles Stilinski is a Winchester, There's so many people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 118,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gold_On_The_Ceiling_42/pseuds/Gold_On_The_Ceiling_42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo Raeken thinks he can just waltz into Beacon Hills and tear apart Scott's pack, but he won't get very far if Stiles Winchester has anything to say about it. The two go head-to-head in a season 5 AU that will bring back old faces and leave everyone questioning everything. Tensions rise and friendships shatter as secrets are revealed and no one's hands are left clean. The future of Beacon Hills has never been so bleak, but if the pack has learned anything, it's to never trust a fox. A sequel to 'Blood on my Name.' </p><p>Set at the end of/after Teen Wolf season 5a, and after Supernatural season 8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Need To Talk About Donovan

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'll be the first to admit that this isn't very timely, given that Teen Wolf season 5 premiered a year ago. However, I've been meaning to publish it for a while. Please note that if you don't read at least the first story in this series, (Blood on my Name) it will not make any sense. Also please note that there is a lot of fighting and violence in this story, but I don't think it's graphic enough for a trigger warning. I'll adjust the warnings if that ceases to be true. Enjoy!

Ch. 1

We Need To Talk About Donovan

Let’s start with Donovan. Stiles didn’t mean to kill him, it’s just kind of one of those things that happens. Just like when he killed Alexander, or Katherine, or anything he’s hunted with his brothers. He was a hunter, after all, and that meant sometimes things ended up dead. Sometimes, those things could be him if he wasn’t careful. So let me repeat myself. Stiles didn’t mean to kill Donovan. But as he watched the blood and mercury mix together on Donovan’s corpse, he felt something gnawing and twisting in his gut that he hadn’t felt since February his junior year: guilt.

_Oh god, Scott’s going to kill me._

That shouldn’t have been his first thought. He was a hunter. He knew better. Sam and Dean had taught him that the worse thing to lose on a case was not your phone or your gun, it was your mind. He should have been thinking of the shovels in his backseat and places he could hide the body instead of shaking like he was suddenly in the arctic. Even as he reached into his phone to call 911 he could hear his brothers in his head, screaming at him not to. But what would they know? He hadn’t talked to them, not since Dean called him to say that he and Cas were back from purgatory, and that something was weird with Cas so they had to stay vigilant.

So as Stiles hid in his jeep as the patrol car swept the area, all he could think about was how disappointed Scott would be. As a hunter, Stiles was supposed to protect the innocent, and now Donovan was dead thanks to some bad luck and worse morals. Scott’s trust in Stiles was thinning, had been thinning since New Orleans, (not that Stiles would ever forgive himself for that. If he looked closely, Scott’s knee still had the slightest phantom limp.) But now, with Donovan’s blood on his hands? Scott would only see the cruel hunter that struck first and asked questions later. He wouldn’t see the scared teenage boy that had clutched on to scaffolding as if his life depended on it, all training and skills erased from his mind in blind fear. He would see the boy who held a gun to a demon’s head and shot without mercy, with cold, cruel eyes that could easily be turned on his friends. No, Stiles couldn’t tell Scott, not yet anyway. Scott would only see a potential deadly hunter, not the boy who probably wouldn’t have survived the night if not for his training.

When he checked the library again, the body was gone, and Stiles took that as a blessing and a curse. Somehow, he managed to get home in one piece, and his fingers splayed and twitched with nerves as he dialed one of several numbers seared into his brain.

_Ring......Ring.....Ring...._

“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice said.

Stiles’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Kevin?” he asked tentatively.

“Stiles?” Kevin asked with equal trepidation. There was a pause that sounded suspiciously like chewing and then Kevin spoke again, slightly muffled. “They told me you might call.”

“Yeah, where are Sam and Dean?” Stiles asked. “I can’t believe they trusted you with their cellphones.”

“Yeah, well, they’re still a little hesitant about the bunker.” Kevin said. “So they left me one of their phones.”

Stiles flopped down on his bed, processing the information. “Well where are they now?” he asked. “Could I call Dean?”

“Unlikely.” Kevin mumbled through his meal. “They just left to go complete the second trial. Something tells me they’re a little out of their coverage zone.”

“You mean Hell.” Stiles mused.

“I mean Hell!” Kevin said. “But you can talk to me if you want to. I am a prophet of the lord, after all.”

“You are a 19 year old with an ego problem.” Stiles grumbled. But he actually considered it. “I don’t want any of this repeated to Sam and Dean...” Stiles began hesitantly.

“Cross my heart.” Kevin said. “So spill.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, “let’s say I did something bad. Unforgivable bad. Death penalty bad. But it was self defense. And it wasn’t on purpose. And it was a him-or-me situation. And ‘him’ being a chimera-wendigo hell bent on eating my legs and killing my dad. Ame ‘me’ being a scared 17-year-old clutching onto scaffolding and pulling out a screw that resulted in falling steel beams and a hypothetical body And then said hypothetical body disappeared. Should I tell my strictly-no-murder best friend about it, even if it shatters my relationship with him?”

Kevin was silent for a moment.

“Kevin?” Stiles prompted.

“I’m thinking.” Kevin said. “Sam and Dean told me all about your pack. It’s Scott, right? The alpha? Stiles, I think you should tell him. Even if it wrecks your friendship now, keeping it a secret will definitely be worse.”

“I have a history with this sort of behavior.” Stiles said, panic from the earlier night beginning to resurface. “Scott’s not going to believe it was an accident.”

“He will if you tell him.” Kevin said sincerely. “And if you mean it. Stiles, something like this, it’s going to come out. Would you rather Scott heard it from you, now, or from someone else farther down the road?”

“Now.” Stiles said. “Definitely now. Thanks Kevin.”

“Don’t mention it.” Kevin said. “You’re a welcome distraction from my ‘required reading.’”

“Good luck on the tablets.” Stiles said, relief flooding into his system. “And tell Sam and Dean to hightail it to Beacon Hills the moment they get back. This Dread Doctors situation is only getting worse.”

Kevin murmured his assent and then the two said their goodbyes. Stiles was about to call Scott, his fingers poised over the numbers, when he looked up and saw a scrawled name on his whiteboard.

_Theo Raeken._

Stiles’ blood boiled. Theo. It always came back to Theo. Stiles wasn’t fooled, not for a minute. There was something wrong, off, _untrustworthy_ about Beacon Hills’ newest werewolf. He could spot a liar from a mile away. But instinct told him to bid his time, so he did. If Theo wanted to move in on Stiles’ ex-girlfriend, fine. Malia could more than look after herself. If Theo wanted to try to twist Scott around his finger, fine. Scott wasn’t an idiot. But now the bodies were piling up, now people were less and less safe, and now Stiles had a sneaking suspicion about his old friend. Theo said he had wanted a pack, just how far was he willing to go?

Stiles flashed back to a fight he and Scott had had upon Theo’s return.

_“I let Malia in!” Scott yelled, walking frustratedly into the forest as Stiles trailed behind, the aftermath of his fight with the giant werewolf still leaving adrenaline in his system. “I let Kira and Liam and Mason into our pack. Why can’t I do the same for Theo?”_

_“Because I don’t trust him!” Stiles shouted just as loudly, flailing his limbs as if to make a point. “And Scott? I’m usually right about these things!”_

_“Why? Cause Sam and Dean taught you?” Scott asked with only a little bitterness._

_“YES!” Stiles exclaimed. “Because I know what to look for! Because you trust people too quickly, and too often. And look where that’s gotten us!”_

_“Stiles...” Scott said, softer, and Stiles felt bad immediately. Thier problems weren’t Scott’s fault. New Orleans wasn’t Scott’s fault._

_“Do what you want, Scott.” Stiles said, beginning to back away from him into the woods. “I can’t stop you from connecting to an omega. But don’t tell him about me, ok? Don’t tell him who I really am.”_

_Scott shook his head. “It isn’t my secret to tell.”_

 

So Stiles had one advantage over Theo. But now Donovan was dead, and Stiles was more and more sure he was playing into Theo’s- _someone’s_ -hands. That this was all a sick game. Well he had learned the hard way not to try to out trick a trickster.

Stiles took a deep breath, lied down, and went to sleep, dreaming of blood, mercury, and purgatory.

 

So he didn’t call Scott that night. He went to Eichen house and tested his friend’s morality, of which he was disappointed to find contained no remorse from anything Stiles had done to Donovan. And Theo continued to be in the dark about Stiles. Fast forward a few weeks, and Stiles got to watch as he continued to warp his way into the pack. He read the book, and, okay, the vision about his mom had sucked, but Stiles had been through so much worse. Satan worse. But then Theo killed Josh, and Stiles acted out. The key being acted. He wanted to find out how much Theo knew about Stiles, and what his cover story would be for witnessing Stiles’ death, and Stiles wasn’t disappointed. He always knew Theo was a lying son of a bitch, he just didn’t expect him to be that smart. So, when he and Theo offered to watch the body several hours later, Stiles took the opportunity to study the wolf. And that’s how he came to the conclusion that Theo was a total and utter sociopath. And guess what? He knew from experience.

But then Theo had saved Hayden and Liam, and Stiles knew that he was running out of time to make his move. Theo obviously had a huge endgame in mind, and Stiles needed to figure it out before it could happen. Meanwhile, Kevin had nothing on the Dread Doctors and Sam and Dean were busy with Cas and Naomi.

 

Stiles had made a mistake. He had made a huge mistake. Because he _had_ told his dad about Donovan, and his dad had completely understood. But he was investigating the school for chimeras and something awfully suspicious had happened.

“Stiles...” Sheriff Stilinski said on the phone, “I just asked Theo what had happened at the library that night. And he told me completely the wrong thing.”

Stiles had made a mistake.

He should have told Scott.

Because apparently Theo was backing down on the deal of silence they had reluctantly made.

He was smart, he was manipulative, he was a liar, he had Scott under his thumb, and now he was unpredictable.

Theo was going to tell Scott about Donovan. It made sense, really, to go after the only person in the pack who trusted Stiles completely (only Theo didn’t know why) and rip that trust out of his chest.

Malia was missing. Lydia wasn’t answering her phone. And, oh look, was that thunder?

Oh, and apparently Haden was dying. Lovely.

Stiles had made a mistake.

He had underestimated Theo Raeken.

Because Theo was obviously working for the doctors. Stiles could see that now. As he was driving over to the animal clinic with dread festering in his heart, Stiles’ head swam with facts and conversations that were now beginning to make sense. First of all, the timing. That should have been the biggest clue, Theo came back into town just as the doctors did. Then there were the different signatures, conveniently covered up after the fact. Then Donovan disappears and makes a beeline for Stiles? Theo turned him into a chimera, and then sent him to Stiles. And how did the Dread Doctors know that Kira would be at Eichen House? Theo! Why did he give little qualms about killing Josh? The bastard had probably watched the doctors stick needles into him in the first place. Also, he was a sociopath using the death of his sister as some kind of get-out-of-jail free card. Not to mention, he had found Hayden and Liam rather quickly. The whole thing with the electric fence was most likely a show to gain their trust.

And then there was Scott. Stiles was observant, he could see the signs. Everywhere Scott looked, there was Theo with a comforting glance and words of wisdom. Theo was there every time Stiles should have been. Theo was trying to replace Stiles. Well tonight, tonight would be a chance to see if it had worked. Because there was no doubt in Stiles’ mind that he was driving to a psychologically engineered trap set up by the wolf. What his endgame was, Stiles wasn’t sure, but he was going to find out, and then he would chain the S.O.B. in Eichen House for good. Or maybe hand him over to Crowley. Whatever works.

Now it all made sense, and Stiles kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Because while he knew Theo was bad news, he had assumed the wolf was too prideful to work with anyone else. Now, was he on par with the doctors? No. Stiles had seen those scary things. No way were they telling him everything. Most likely they were using him instead of the other way around. But that still made Theo dangerous. Because he obviously had an endgame- other than his ‘pack’ B.S. -that Stiles still needed to figure out. Which reminded him...

Even though Stiles was running late and Lydia and Malia were missing and Hayden was dying at the animal clinic, Stiles still pulled over to make a phone call. Because if he was walking into a trap, it was stupid to not tell anyone.

Kevin picked up on the first ring.

“Stiles?” he asked a little sleepily, and Stiles realized that if it was 10 pm in California it was midnight at the bunker. Poor Kevin.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Stiles said, his nervousness bleeding though his voice. “What’s up?”

“You mean where are Sam and Dean?” Kevin asked. “They left to go hunt down Metatron and close the gates of hell. They told me to stay safe.”

“Yeah I figured they’d be busy.” Stiles said, though he did feel a twinge of disappointment. “That’s why I called you.”

“What do you need?” Kevin asked through a yawn, and Stiles’ heart broke for how exhausted this kid sounded.

“Nothing, nothing.” Stiles assured. “I don’t need anything because I was going about this all wrong, and I’ve figured it out.”

“You figured out how to kill the Doctors?” Kevin asked excitedly, tiredness momentarily forgotten.

“No.” Stiles said solemnly. “I figured out how they know things. I figured out why my life and my pack are falling apart, and I figured out my mistake.”

“What do you mean, Stiles?” Kevin asked through another yawn.

“There was this one question you asked me the moment we started researching these things. I batted it aside. Do you remember what it was?”

“‘Do they have any allies?’” Kevin recollected. “Because Sam and Dean have been boned because of it.”

“Yeah, well, they do, and it’s Theo.” Stiles said.

“Oh. _Oh_. Stiles, I’m sorry!” Kevin said sadly, as it all started to make sense to him, too.

“No, it’s my fault. I didn’t listen to you. And I didn’t take your advice about Donovan.” Stiles said reassuringly. “But I’m walking into a trap and Theo holds all of the cards. I’m not sure what’s going to happen tonight. So if Sam and Dean come home, tell them that.”

“I will.” Kevin said. “Stiles, be careful.” Stiles could tell that Kevin meant it. “But you’re wrong.”

“What?” Stiles asked, momentarily thrown. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to win.” Kevin said, barely containing his glee. “Even if it won’t seem like it at first. Because Theo doesn’t have all of the cards. He doesn’t know you have me, or Sam, or Dean, ready to back you up. He doesn’t know how much determination you truly have. And he doesn’t know that you’re a badass hunter who can eat bastards like him for breakfast. That’s your Joker. _Use it_.”

Stiles was speechless at Kevin’s faith in him. “Thanks.” was all he could say.

“Don’t mention it.” Kevin said. “And not just because I’m a fugitive.”

Then the line went dead, and Stiles was left alone to drive to the animal clinic with nothing but his slowly returning confidence. Kevin was right. He was an awesome hunter. This was _Scott_. What could possibly go wrong?


	2. The Breakup Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter takes dialogue from the end of the second-to-last episode of TW season 5a, but after that, the story ventures into AU territory. There's also an abundance of references to previous stories. Enjoy!

Ch. 2

The Breakup Scene

Stiles hated being right. But more than that, he hated making mistakes. And his heart plummeted the moment Scott had taken out that wrench.

Ok, so he had lied about why he was late, but the part about Malia and Lydia was true. Stiles had tried calling them after Kevin to no avail. And Stiles should have seen how downtrodden Scott had looked before the wrench came into play.

It still had blood on it. How did it still have blood on it? Why had Stiles left it behind at all? Because he had stricken Donovan with it, and he must have been in too much of a panic to keep track of it.

“Where did you get that?” Stiles asked, and it came out a little more foreboding than curious, because he hated being right. Scott knew. Somehow, he knew. The question was what he knew.

Scott still held the wrench out for him. “Is this yours?” he asked, like he really did not want to know the answer, but knew it anyway. He looked like he had witnessed an entire truckload of puppies get trampled. Stiles took the wrench from him but Scott only seemed to look worse, as if the picture of Stiles with the wrench put some awful vision to life.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asked desperately, and Stiles wanted to hurt whoever had put his best friend in this state. Then he realized it was _him_ , and Stiles felt a surging need to remedy this, to save Scott the pain of thinking his best friend was a murderer.

“I wanted to.” Stiles said truthfully, and he flashed back to that horrible night, to Kevin saying to get it over with. _Do you want him finding out now or later down the road?_ Well it looked like it was the end of the line. Shame at his own stupidity kept Stiles from looking Scott in the eye as he spoke, so he turned the wrench over again in his hands. Why a wrench? Scott kept eyeing it warily, so it was clearly an object of much angst. But why? Stiles had boxed Donovan in the jaw, he hadn’t brained him with it.

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?” Scott pleaded, and Stiles didn’t have a good answer. He had wanted to. Kevin had wanted him to. But he hadn’t because....

....because he wasn’t sure how much more his friend could take, because he couldn’t tarnish Scott’s perfect image of him any further.

“I couldn’t.” Stiles said, and he wished it wasn’t true.

“You killed him?” Scott asked, like there was any shadow of a doubt, like he was still desperately hoping the evidence stacked against Stiles was false. “You killed Donovan?”

_He was going to kill me!_ Stiles mentally screamed. _He was going to eat my legs!_ But if Scott knew the truth then he surely knew that, and thought that that wasn’t sufficient information, self-defense wasn’t a justifiable enough cause. So he explained the protecting of another innocent.

“He was going to kill my dad! What was I supposed to do, let him?” Stiles challenged. But he was beginning to wonder if Scott would say yes. Was Stiles allowed to protect no one?

“You weren’t supposed to do this.” Scott said sadly, and that was as good as a yes. “None of us are.” Stiles had done the wrong thing. Stiles should have been smarter. Stiles wasn’t an us anymore. Stiles shouldn’t have thought like a hunter. Stiles shouldn’t have killed like one.

“What, you think I had a choice?” Stiles asked. _You think I can change who I am, what’s been written in me for years? You think I can go against my instinct when my life is in danger?_ It was true, Stiles’ first thought had been to kill, not to save. But Scott was all about going against instinct, wasn’t he? That was why he chained Liam to trees, why he fought and fought against the moon’s pull, even at his most vulnerable. He was constantly thrashing against his nature in a desperate attempt to return to normal. But Stiles was human, and Stiles had apparently had a choice. Stiles didn’t fit Scott’s mould of control. Stiles was weak.

_Weak and dangerous._ That must be what Scott thought. _I can’t be trusted anymore._

“There’s always a choice!” Scott assured, and Stiles’ blood boiled. _Of course there is. Him or me. Would you have rather seen my body eaten alive if it meant I kept my hands clean?_ Because Stiles’ hands weren’t clean. And Scott never had a problem before. What had changed?

“I can’t do what you can, Scott!” _I can do worse. I can’t protect myself without dishing it back._ “I know you wouldn’t have done this! You probably would have just figured something out, right? Like New Orleans?”

Scott winced at the memory. “I’d try.” he admitted, disappointment clear in his gaze.

And suddenly Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take the fact that Scott was disappointed in Stiles for escaping from a deadly creature unscathed.

“BECAUSE YOU’RE SCOTT MCCALL!” Stiles shouted, and Sam and Dean warned him to never lose his temper. But Sam and Dean weren’t here. “You’re the true alpha! Well guess what? All of us can’t be true alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes!” _Like Katherine, like Alexander, like Kai._ “Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes!” _Like Katherine, like Alexander, like Kai._ “Some of us are HUMAN!” _Like Matt, like Jeremy, like Allison, like Elena, like Mason, or did it not matter that Stiles’ actions had saved their lives?_

“So you had to kill him?” Scott asked, and Stiles fumed. Did Scott truly believe there had been no other way? Or was Scott looking at Stiles and only seeing the bloodthirsty, ruthless hunters they had come across. Hunters that were nothing like Stiles. Was Scott beginning to doubt that?

“Scott, he was going to kill my dad!” Stiles said, begging for him to understand that it was about more than protecting himself. He was protecting everyone who could not protect themselves.

“The way that it happened,” Scott said, sadness turned to horror as he began to recollect what must have been his vivid picture of the scaffolding coming down, “there’s a point that it’s not self defense anymore!”

“What are you even talking about?” Stiles asked angrily. Because he remembered clawing desperately for salvation, enduring Donovan’s threats like they were knives in his stomach. “I didn’t have a choice, Scott!” Scott looked incredulous, and it was beginning to make sense to Stiles. _We protect those who cannot protect themselves_. That was the bottom line, wasn’t it? The new hunter’s code that Stiles had sworn to follow? In Scott’s eyes, Donovan couldn’t protect himself, and Stiles was ill-suited to protect him. In Scott’s eyes, the only ones worthy of doing the protecting were those who were above humans, the supernatural. Because humans, because hunters, couldn’t be trusted to not revert to their old code. We hunt those who hunt us. Donovan had hunted Stiles, and Stiles had failed to protect. “You don’t even believe me, do you?” Stiles asked, and he wasn’t just asking about Donovan. He was asking if Scott believed he was an honest hunter.

“I want to.” Scott said, and Stiles’ heart nearly soared at the prospect that all hope was not lost. If Scott could simply understand...

“Then believe me!” Stiles said. He was hopeful, and that hope shattered when Scott continued to look rejected. It shouldn’t be that difficult! “Scott, say you believe me!” What was there to think about? “Say it. Say you believe me.”

“Stiles, we can’t kill people that we’re trying to save.” Scott said, and Stiles knew that he still didn’t understand. Not all things could be saved! It was Stiles or Donovan, and one of them wasn’t a starving wendigo! Did Scott truly value Stiles’ survival so little that he would cast it aside for every wayward creature?

“Say you believe me.” Stiles said, more forcefully this time, because it wasn’t, couldn’t, be true. He took a step forward, and accidentally raised the wrench in the process. Scott practically lept away, and Stiles knew there was no salvaging them, not if Scott was that afraid of him. But he kept shooting terrified glances at the wrench. Why? It wasn’t the murder weapon, Scott should have been looking at iron beams with that kind of terror.

“We can’t kill people!” Scott asserted. “Do you believe that?”

_But I already have!_ Stiles thought. _Does that mean I’m not worth saving?_ “What do I do about this?” he asked, praying for a glimmer of a second chance. “Alexander, Katherine, Caroline? It’s too late for me! What do you want me to do, ok? Scott, just tell me how to fix this, alright? How can I not be who I am, just tell me, what do you want me to do?”

Scott looked lost, as if he, a werewolf, had no idea what to do about Stiles’ unfortunate identity. It was the trial all over again- and that hadn’t even been Scott’s decision. He had begged the pack to take that responsibility away from him.

“Don’t worry about Malia or Lydia.” Scott finally decided. _Don’t worry about a pack that isn’t yours anymore._ “We’ll find them. Maybe you should talk to your dad.”

_He already knows!_ Stiles wanted to shout at him. But he was too upset to think straight. Instead, he could only watch as Scott turned his back on him and went into the animal clinic. Without Stiles.

Stiles turned the wrench over in his hand for what felt like forever, staring, contemplating. Once the absolute pain of rejection had cleared slightly, he began to realize his second mistake. Ironically, it was the exact same one as the first.

Scott had looked at the wrench with fear in his eyes, as if it were the ultimate catalyst that changed Stiles from his friend into a monstrous hunter. The wrench hadn’t been the murder weapon. But what if Scott thought it was?

_Oh, god._ It was all making sense, now. Why Scott was so fixated on the goddam wrench. Why seeing Stiles hold it seemed to be unbearable. Why seeing Stiles _raise_ it made him want to run away. Why he questioned that what Stiles had done hadn’t been self defense. Because as far as Stiles knew, the only way to kill someone with a wrench was to beat their skull in with it. Stiles winced at the mere thought of doing that to Donovan. Imagine if that had actually happened? It certainly wouldn’t have been self defense! It would have been brutal, it would have been animalistic, and it would have been terrifying to witness. Scott thought his friend had turned into a cold-blooded killer, when he couldn’t be further from the truth.

_Theo must have lied to him._

And that thought made Stiles spring into action. Because The had finally made his move, and it had worked. Stiles had underestimated him again.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled, running up to the clinic and pulling on the doors. They were locked, and Stiles was only hurt for a second that Scott felt the need to protect himself from Stiles. “Scott! Open up!” He began pounding on the door with a ferocity, and while that wouldn’t help Scott’s image of him, it would certainly get results.

He was right. And Stiles hated being right. Because results were in the form of Theo appearing at the door, and shoving the two of them outside in the (still pouring) rain before closing it, but not before Stiles caught an image of Scott and Liam arguing. Stiles realized that Theo, the bastard, had been listening to the whole exchange, probably with a smile on his face.

Theo crossed his arms defensively. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

It took all of Stiles’ self control to not hurtle himself at Theo. That would accomplish nothing. “No duh.” he said instead. “Luckily, I also want to talk to you.”

Theo’s serious face grew worried. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What do you want?” he asked with trepidation.

“I want to talk out of range of my alpha.” Stiles said with as little sarcasm as he could muster. Briefly, he checked what weapons he had in his pockets. It was enough. “Or will you get separation anxiety?”

Theo considered this, weighing his concerns for Scott against his piqued curiosity. Eventually, his curiosity won, just like Stiles knew it would, and he gestured for Stiles to lead the way. Stiles, without another word, turned on his heel and began walking towards the jeep, Theo trailing eagerly behind him. Once they drove to the nearby preserve, the pair exited with the jeep lights still on, and Stiles turned abruptly back towards Theo.

“Can you hear Scott?” he asked. “Or Liam, or Hayden?” Theo shook his head no. “Good.” Stiles said. Then he punched Theo in the nose. _Hard._

Theo stumbled back, more in surprise rather than actual pain, and he clutched his bleeding nose with a look of confusion. It would have been funny if Stiles hadn’t felt torn in a million pieces.

“What was that for?” Theo asked angrily.

“What do you think!” Stiles snapped. “You told Scott!”

Theo no longer looked confused. His face morphed into an expression of defensive innocence. “I just told Scott what he needed to know.” he said, raising his arms defensively. “The secrets were destroying you!”

“Oh really?” Stiles snarled. Like Theo actually had the audacity to lie to his face now? “So I suppose that’s why you told Scott I bashed Donovan’s head in with a wrench! Because we have to stop _keeping secrets_.”

Now, Theo looked surprised, and Stiles took a victory in knowing it was genuine. “What are you talking about?” Theo demanded, but Stiles wasn’t fooled. The werewolf was growing more angry, dropping his carefully crafted demeanor of innocence. “I told Scott the truth!”

“The truth, huh?” Stiles challenged, and he was wading into dangerous territory but damn him if he wasn’t going to get it off of his chest. “Then I guess you also told Scott that you’ve been working with the Dred Doctors!”

“What?” Theo exclaimed. “Stiles! Stop lying! Look, I understand, you’re upset, you’re confused, but you’re lashing out with wild accusations and you have no proof-”

“I guess you’re right!” Stiles said, calmer. “Except for the fact that you lied to my dad. You told him that Donovan was impaled on scaffolding, except that you did it, not me.”

“I was protecting you!” Theo exclaimed. “It wasn’t your fault and it was self defense and I tried to convey that to Scott but-”

“Drop the act, Theo!” Stiles roared, “I know the truth!” He spread his arms wide in a challenge. “No one can hear you over here, so if you want to get your sick game off of your chest, do it NOW!”

He hadn’t expected Theo to take the bait quite yet. He thought Theo would need to be more riled up, more ‘fake-angry’ with all of the accusations before he got tired of the act. But Stiles supposed that if there was one thing that was true, an artist always wanted their work to be admired. And Theo had certainly mastered the art of lying.

Theo’s angry face dropped to a slow, slythering smirk, and Stiles knew the facade had been dropped. It was time to implement one of his own.

“You’re right.” Theo said, taking a step forward, his anger replaced by smugness. Stiles took a reflexive step back, looking suddenly offput at the change in behavior. “No one can hear us over here. Which means they can’t hear you scream.”

“What are you going to do, kill me?” Stiles asked, his voice shaking slightly. _Where is my Oscar?_ “Now that I know the truth about you and the doctors?”

“You don’t know everything.” Theo murmured. Another step. He was cornering his prey.

“No?” Stiles mused. “Enlighten me.”

Again, Stiles hadn’t expected Theo to take the bait. But apparently the werewolf had been dying for a monologue.

“I came for a pack.” he said. And yeah, Stiles had already known that. He told Theo as much. “No, you don’t understand.” Theo said. “I came here to form my own pack. Not join yours!”

Oh.

Crap.

Apparently, Stiles had underestimated Theo three times. Because he didn’t expect Theo to be so open (kinda) about his intentions. Because Stiles had brushed aside that reason as being too obvious, when really Theo had been hiding his intentions in plain sight.

And Stiles wasn’t expecting this.

“I thought you came back for Scott.” Stiles said rather lamely, his fake-scared persona fueled with genuine worry.

Theo laughed, cold and cruel, taking delight in Stiles’ fear. “No,” he said, backing Stiles into a literal corner against the jeep, “I came for the werecoyote. I came for the banshee, the dark kitsune, the beta with anger issues! I came for void Stiles! That’s the pack I want! And it doesn’t include Scott.”

_What?_

“A true alpha.” Stiles mused, struggling to wrap his head around Theo’s obvious power craving, “one of the rarest supernatural occurrences ever, and you come for the rest of them?” Because he couldn’t bear to include himself with the supernaturals. He’d get to the ‘void Stiles’ thing in a minute. “They’re a bunch of half-dead, out of control reject teenagers, and you come back for _them_?” Theo was boxing him in so Stiles shoved him, only the werewolf wouldn’t budge. Instead, he grabbed Stiles’ sweatshirt and shoved him harshly against the jeep, rattling his bones.

“Not just them, Stiles.” Theo hissed.

“I don’t care!” Stiles yelled, because Theo’s endgame was much worse than he thought. “You’re going to kill Scott! And what? Replace him? Do you really think they’ll follow you? Do you really think they’ll live up to your sick expectations when you kill the one thing holding all of us together?”

“No.” Theo said, still holding Stiles threateningly off of the ground. “Because I don’t think it’s Scott holding them all together. I think it’s you.”

Stiles laughed hysterically. “Oh really? And how did you come to this conclusion?”

“I’m observant.” Theo said with a harsh smile.

“That you are.” Stiles commented, suddenly having enough of the situation. “You were probably listening to Scott and I’s entire fight outside of the clinic, weren’t you? Well did anything seem odd?”

Theo began to think, and a small frown crossed his face.

“Well?” Stiles prompted.

“New Orleans.” Theo said, suddenly unsure of himself. “And some people called Alexander and Katherine.”

“I killed them.” Stiles said coldly, and Theo recoiled, dropping Stiles back on the ground. “And not when I was the nogitsune, either. No, I killed Katherine in the heat of an ugly battle, and I shot Alexander in the head in front of the entire pack.” And this time it was Stiles who took a step forward, and Theo who took a step back. “Because Katherine was a vampire and Alexander was a demon. Donovan wasn’t the first life I’ve taken, Theo. He’s one among several.”

“What?” Theo asked. “Vampires? Demons?”

Stiles tsked, taking another step. “You should have done your research, Theo.” he drawled. “See a nogitsune feeds off of chaos and destruction, but me? I kill because I want to. I _hunt_ because I want to.”

“ _That’s_ void Stiles!” Theo exclaimed, but he didn’t seem so sure. He looked worried.

“No.” Stiles said simply, and damn him if he wasn’t enjoying making Theo squirm. “You’re too late for that. You found something much worse.” Slowly, he reached for the wrench that was hidden in his sleeve.

“You’re a hunter.” Theo stated, eyes wide, a thin layer of panic evident in his voice.

“I’m a Winchester.” Stiles snarled. “I don’t expect you to know what that means. But if you came looking for me devoid of emotion, then you, my friend, should have known better. You should have done your research, Theo. You should have known not to trust a fox. Cause we’ll fool you. We’ll fool everyone.”

Theo only had time to look absolutely terrified before Stiles hit him in the head with his wrench, knocking him out cold.


	3. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has some POV swaps and backtracking a little, I hope it's not too confusing. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

Taken

Theo awoke to find himself tied to a chair in very dark room. In no time, he struggled against his bonds, but the burning in his wrists and ankles and his significant lack in strength told him that the ropes were soaked in wolfsbane. Come to mention it, the single lamp over his head illuminated a tell-tale circle of mountain ash around him. _Crap_. He wasn’t getting out any time soon.

Knowing his escape was futile, Theo instead decided to use his time to study his surroundings. The lamp didn’t illuminate much but Theo was facing a wall with a door in a very small, plain room with nothing else in it but a table and two chairs. Then suddenly one chair moved, and Theo jumped when he realized he had been being watched the whole time.

“Stiles?” he asked, his voice cracking from possible dehydration. It was all coming back to him now, the fight, getting carried away, Stiles on him with a wolfsbane knife, saying everyone already knew he was a killer.

“Nope.” the guy said. He scooted the chair forward so Theo could see his face. The guy was Asian and couldn’t be any older than twenty.

“Who the hell are you?” Theo asked, trying his best to hold back the panic in his voice. Because this was a situation he hadn’t prepared for.

“Me?” the guy said. “I’m a friend of Stiles. He went out to get some things, he’ll be back any minute now.” Theo didn’t think he was imagining the smirk on his face.

Right on cue, the door Theo was facing opened, and Stiles stood in the doorway. Theo strained to see what was behind the door, but Stiles was blocking it completely. Then the door was shut, and Stiles plopped a very delicious smelling bag on the metal table.

“I got takeout.” Stiles said to his friend way too casually, like Theo wasn’t tied up ten feet away. It certainly unnerved Theo, because this calm and collected Stiles wasn’t what he was used to. It was like he was a whole other person.

“Excelent!” his friend exclaimed, reaching eagerly for a fork and one of several take-out boxes. He wasted no time in eating.

“Stiles?” Theo worked up the courage to ask. Stiles ignored him, taking out his own fork and box before sitting down with one leg crossed over the other, he and his friend unnervingly watching Theo as they ate.

“Do you want some?” Stiles asked chipperly, holding out his meal. “You’ve been out for quite a while, I mean, it’s almost lunchtime.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Theo said sarcastically, but inside he was panicking slightly. He had been out for 18 hours? It seemed unlikely.

Stiles leaned forward as he studied Theo. “You’re wondering how I managed to knock you out that long.” he mused. “Well it wasn’t just the wrench I hit you with. The wolfsbane helped, too.”

Stiles had drugged him? What the hell?

“Count yourself lucky.” Stiles suddenly said venomously, and it was creepy how he knew what Theo was thinking. “Considering what you deserve, count yourself lucky that you’re alive at all.”

Ok, that was more than fair. Because Theo had gotten a little carried away, and he might have told Stiles his entire plan. Yeah, that was bad. But seriously, did Stiles really think he could outsmart him?

“Yes, I can.” Stiles said coldly. His friend looked highly amused. It took Theo a second to realize that he had said all of his most recent thoughts out loud. “I should probably mention that this particular brand of wolfsbane also makes werewolves a little bit more relaxed with their tongue.” Stiles said as an afterthought. His friend snickered.

Stiles had drugged him with wolfsbane truth serum. Ok, this was very bad.

“Who are you?” Theo asked Stiles’ friend, because if he had to keep saying ‘Stiles’ friend’ over and over again, he would explode. And no, he hadn’t said that out loud.

“Me?” the guy said smugly. “I’m Kevin. And that’s really all you need to know about me.”

“So,” Stiles began ominously, scooting his chair closer to Theo, “let’s talk about ‘void Stiles.’

Theo gulped. “What do you want to know?”

 

When Stiles had called Kevin 18 hours earlier, frantically begging him to drive over and help, Kevin had to calm him down fast.

“Oh my god, Kevin, I was right about Theo, only it’s so much worse than I thought!” Stiles had practically sobbed. “He told Scott completely the wrong thing and now Scott thinks I’m a cold-blooded murderer so I confronted Theo and I knocked him out-”

“Woah, Stiles!” Kevin yelled. “Slow down! Where are you now?”

“A water treatment plant on the edge of town.” Stiles said quietly. “Dean and I were here once, during the whole Alexander debacle. I- I didn’t know where else to go, because my house would be the first place they looked, and I keep mountain ash and vervain here, and the water’s blessed and I don’t have a swanky bunker like you guys, and I didn’t know where else to go!”

“Okay,” Kevin said calmly, ironic because he was usually the one freaking out. “Okay. Where is Theo now?”

Stiles took a deep breath. “He’s tied up in a chair in the next room-” and okay, Kevin was not expecting that, “-with wolfsbane ropes because I am apparently paranoid enough to have those in my Jeep, don’t tell Scott. And he’s still unconscious and I think it is cause of the wolfsbane and I have no idea what to do if he wakes up! Kevin, I know it’s a long drive, but do you think you could come over? I sure as hell could use some help.”

“Stiles,” Kevin said, “I’m already on my way. Now how about you hang up so I can keep driving.”

Stiles complied with a gratuitous thanks, and the phone went silent.

Truthfully, Kevin had been making his way towards Beacon Hills ever since the day previously, based on a scarily accurate bad feeling. Maybe it was a prophet thing.

As he passed the city limits into Beacon Hills, Kevin set his mouth in a grim line. Sam and Dean wouldn’t be happy to find him gone, to say the least, but surely they wouldn’t mind if it was for Stiles.

Besides. Kevin Tran was getting sick of those goddamn tablets.

 

“What do you want to know?”

Stiles was glad Kevin was with him. Being busy had helped, but the feeling of the loss of Scott’s trust continued to creep up on Stiles and make him feel unwanted and rejected. Kevin reminded him that he still had people on his side. Also, the tough-hunter act was insanely hard to pull off, especially given the fact that he was mentally freaking out about a million different things. Kevin was helping him sell the act (and enjoying it possibly a little too much) and based off of Theo’s reactions, it was working. But back to the interrogation. Theo had said some pretty unnerving things, killing Scott one of them, but possibly the most unsettling one was the fact that Theo, in some sense, had come back for Stiles.

That was scary.

“I want to know,” Stiles said assertively, “why you would come back for me, the weak little human.”

Theo chuckled uncomfortably. “You don’t look so weak right now.”

Stiles pursed his lips. “True. But you didn’t know that.”

Theo leaned forward as much as he could in his chair, a manic glint in his eyes. “You’ve probably noticed,” he whispered, “that I’m a little unhinged. I want a pack that’s just as crazy. And what better place to start than with a nogitsune?”

“The nogitsune’s gone.” Stiles said firmly. “Buried. Dessicated.”

“Oh, Stiles.” Theo said with a laugh. “Surely you know it isn’t that simple? Surely you’ve noticed how different you’ve been after the fact! Possession isn’t black and white. Things get left behind.”

Stiles stilled, and he remembered a dusty crypt and yet another cold sociopath.

Kevin shot Stiles a stricken look because he had, in some aspect, heard about New Orleans.

“I’m aware.” Stiles said firmly to Theo. “And let me reassure you that that ship has sailed.”

Inwardly, he was freaking out. Just how many people had heard of his escapades as a fox? The fact that this is the second time someone had tried to use him as a weapon was too scary to be mere coincidence.

“Kevin,” Stiles asked, pleased that his voice did not waver, “I trust you brought your laptop?”

“Yep!” Kevin said cheerily, pulling out said laptop. “What do you need? Keep in mind I have to close my notes on all of the tablets.”

“I need allies.” Stiles said, cryptically for Theo’s benefit. “I’m not sure but I think kidnapping him,” he pointed at the wolf “probably declared some kind of war with the dread doctors. Scott and I are on the outs, and half of the pack is missing.Sam and Dean are busy saving the world, naturally, and I need all the help I can get. I need you to find someone for me, but keep in mind that they will almost certainly not want to be found.”

“I’ll do my best.” Kevin said, already booting up his mysteriously battered computer. “This person got a name?”

Stiles smirked. “Danny Mahealani.”

 

Theo didn’t know much about Danny, only that his name was on a few techie trophies at the high school and he was apparently a friend of Stiles. Honestly, that was about the only thing of the past conversation that had made sense to Theo. Kevin had said something about tablets? And who were Sam and Dean? And what the hell was a Winchester? What really worried him, though, was what Theo had said about Stiles’ possession. Or rather, the lack of reaction. That was a pretty big deal, but Stiles acted like he had heard it all before! What the hell? That idea wasn’t even Theo’s! He had been ready to kill Stiles along with Scott, only the doctors told him the human was a lot less harmless than he looked. And they were right. But as Stiles expertly twirled a little silver knife he had conjured, Theo was sure this wasn’t exactly what the doctors had in mind. Now, obviously Stiles wasn’t going to kill him, he would have done so already. But Theo was thinking that he was right about one thing: kidnapping him was starting a war. And the doctors would probably rather see Theo burned alive than risk him giving up their secrets. _They_ were what he was scared of. Because Stiles’ tough act was just that- an act. He was a master of deception and it took one to know one. Granted, Stiles turning out to apparently be an insanely smart hunter with a weird techie friend was a bit of a curveball, but he could deal. After all, Stiles was right. With Lydia, Malia and Kira out of the loop and Scott and Liam surely squabbling, Stiles had no pack. The question, Theo pondered as Kevin worked magic at his computer, was who did Stiles have? Theo was definitely at a disadvantage here. He wouldn’t be able to swindle Stiles’ friends like he had Scott. But Theo was patient. He could study the enigma of Stiles Stilinski all he wanted now and look for weaknesses. He could wait.

 

“Okay,” Kevin said with a huff half an hour later, “You Winchesters don’t pay me enough. I looked up the number you gave me, and yeah, it was disconnected, but it was last used about a year ago near the border of California and Nevada. I hacked into all of the cell phone store cameras around the time of the phone’s last use and ran an algorithm for the picture of the guy. I saw footage of him purchasing a new phone, hacked into that carrier’s records and found a few new phones that had been activated around that time. He bought an iPhone, which is good because of that whole Apple ID thing or something like that, and I was able to figure out which one was him. From then, I tracked it. He’s in Las Vegas, and I have his number right here.” He held up a little slip of paper for Stiles to see.

Both Stiles and Theo looked at Kevin with jaws dropped. “You’re right.” Stiles said, taken aback. “We definitely don’t pay you enough.” Stiles took the number from Kevin.

Kevin held up his chinese food. “Consider this a start.”

“Right. Can I borrow your phone?” Kevin nodded and handed it to Stiles, who stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He looked briefly around the water treatment plant, remembering the confrontation he and Dean had had with Crowley. Where Crowley had told Stiles that he was possessed. Shaking his head of past grievances, Stiles dialed the number, waiting for the ringing to end. He had used Kevin’s cell phone in the hopes that Danny wouldn’t recognize the number, and he was rewarded in his forward thinking when a dull click sounded and a voice said

“Hello?”

“Danny?” Stiles said hesitantly.

Danny swore. “Stiles?” he asked disbelievingly. “How the hell did you find me?”

“Google.” Stiles said dryly. Then, as an afterthought, he took out his wolfsbane-rock salt concoction and spread it around himself so Theo couldn’t hear him. “Anyways, it’s been a while. A lot’s happened.”

“I know.’’ Danny said somberly. “Beacon Hills is making the news again. What the hell is it, a serial killer?”

Stiles grinned to himself. This would be fun. “Try werewolves. Kanimas. Wendigos. I don’t suppose you could put Ethan on the phone?”

Danny was silent.

Stiles sighed. “Come on, Danny. I know you know about Scott and everybody else. I also know that you ran away with Ethan. Now I don’t understand the appeal in Vegas but I’m in a bit of a time crunch and I am so not in the mood. So I don’t suppose you’ll listen to me?”

“Uh, sure.” Danny said, obviously flustered. “Just give me a sec.”

Stiles waited, and he heard Danny yell for Ethan to get the phone. A few moments later, and he was greeted with another ‘Hello.’

“Ethan, hi! It’s Stiles!”

“Stiles?” Ethan asked, dumbfounded. “Look, if this is about all of the deaths going on in Beacon Hills again, I have nothing to do with that! And I don’t want anything to do with that!”

“Woah, Ethan, slow down!” Stiles said. “I know it isn’t you, it’s the Dread Doctors, but that’s a whole other story. As for you not wanting to get involved... that may not be your choice.”

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked worriedly.

“Have you ever heard of a werewolf named Theo Raeken?”

“The name rings a bell.” Ethan said hesitantly. “But I can’t be sure. Why? What does he have to do with anything.”

Stiles sighed again. “Everything.” And he began to explain his situation.

 

It was some time later when Stiles came back in.

“Everything good?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah.” Stiles said. “They’re on the first flight.”

“Well that’s good because the full moon peaks in what? 10 hours?”

“Yep.” Stiles said. “I need you to find some other people for me. But this should be easier. Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, and Jackson Whittemore.”


	4. Twin Skeletons

Ch. 4

Twin Skeletons

_Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, and Jackson Whittemore_. It looked like Stiles was pulling in his old pack. The pack that Theo hadn’t had time to manipulate. That was bad, but Theo was prepared for that. Discreetly, he unsheathed his claws and began sawing at the wolfsbane ropes, wincing through the pain. Stiles wasn’t the only one with some tricks up his sleeve.

 

“Done!” Kevin said triumphantly, pivoting his laptop to show Stiles his work. Stiles whistled as he scrolled through the data Kevin found in about 20 minutes.

“Geez, Kevin, you could give Charlie a run for her money if you keep this up.” Stiles said appreciatively.

Kevin looked abashed. “Not a chance.” he muttered, but Stiles could tell he appreciated the compliment all the same.

Suddenly Stiles heard a dull scratching noise, and, concerned, he turned to see Theo looking perfectly placid. His hands, though, were probably furiously scraping away at the wolfsbane ropes, if his telltale winces were anything to go by. He wouldn’t get far, not with the mountain ash circle around him, but Stiles still didn’t like the thought of Theo attempting to escape.

“You can stop that, you know.” Stiles said dryly, glaring at Theo. “There’s mountain ash around you and the entire building. So unless you want to make a neurotic, concerned, on-edge teen even more of a nightmare, I suggest you keep still.”

Theo’s expression soured, but he didn’t say anything. The scratching stopped.

Triumphant, Stiles turned back to the screen Kevin held out for him. On it showed Jackson and Derek’s locations, which were no surprise, and their current phone numbers, which had both changed. But the only thing on Isaac was a number that had last been used a few months prior in New Orleans, Louisiana.

“Nothing new on Isaac, then?” Stiles asked Kevin.

Kevin shrugged. “Nothing. I can try again in a few days, but it’s like he vanished off of the face of the Earth since he left Beacon Hills.”

“Not quite.” Stiles murmured, remembering masks and blood and black-and-gold, “But I could see why he’d want to keep a low profile. If anything I’d suspect he’ll come to us. He has a bit of an intuition about these types of things.”

“What, like Lydia?” Kevin asked, watching nervously out of the corner of his eye as Theo leaned forward to listen, his face suggesting he was hungry for information. Stiles saw Kevin’s gesture and glanced at Theo as well.

“No, not like Lydia.” he said reproachfully. “I’ll explain later. But think Ruby.” Kevin nodded in understanding and Stiles smirked at the frustrated look Theo wore. “Something to say, Theo?” he taunted. Hey, the guy bulldozed his life. Screw him for being a little bitter.

Theo dropped his frustrated look in a snap, leaning forward with mocking intrigue. “Nothing.” he drawled, “I just never realized it. You’re so good at hiding, I never realized you were something other than a spastic teen.”

Stiles sighed as he pulled up his chair and sat in front of the captive. He saw what Theo was trying to do. Theo was trying to rile Stiles up, testing for his emotional weaknesses and using them to exploit information. Well, two could play at this game. After all, Stiles had all the cards, now. He was the one in control.

“Thank you.” he said dryly. “And?”

Theo chuckled. “Well, you’re a very good liar. Scary good. That doesn’t bother you at all?”

“Nope.” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Really?” Theo asked incredulously. He had a scheming look in his eye, and Stiles knew he had him. “So, falling apart at the seams because of Donovan’s death. That was just an act? You told me you’ve killed before.”

“I was worried about Scott.” Stiles said, letting himself sound defensive. It was, after all, partly true. “About what he’d think of me.”

Theo looked at him like he had grown two heads, and Stiles could almost picture his train of thought. _Why would a scary hunter worry about something so trivial? Unless....oh._ Stiles watched and waited for Theo to take the bait. And then it happened. _There_. That slight curve of the lip, that showed that Theo (thought he had) figured out something to his advantage. The sharp glint in his eyes that meant his mind was whirring at a thousand miles an hour, concocting schemes and tricks and double-crossings. And the way he tilted his chin slightly upwards, like he was examining Stiles in a different light, like the two were equals now that he had dirt on him.

How did Stiles know all this from 0.004 seconds of facial movement? Well, Stiles knew people. It was his job. And Theo, sociopathy aside, was half-human.

And the two were more alike than either would care to admit.

Theo took a sharp intake of breath, setting the mood for his big reveal. “They don’t know.” he breathed in awe, the magnitude of his revelation beginning to set in. He looked like Christmas had come months early. “Scott and the others, they don’t know that you’re a hunter. They don’t know about the blood on your hands.”

Stiles shook his head. Kevin shot him a weird look but, bless him, said nothing. Stiles uncrossed and recrossed his arms and legs, doing his best to look unsettled but restrained, but some of it was genuine. What was that saying, that good lies are based in truth? In truth, Scott did know about his past, about the blood on his name, but Stiles wasn’t sure he understood what it meant. And now that Scott had all the wrong facts about Donovan, Stiles wondered if anything was salvageable. _But the best performances are also based in truth._ So he let his genuine unease bleed through the illusion, and was rewarded when Theo’s smirk became more prominent, the latter believing he had gained the upper hand in the situation.

“They don’t.” Stiles stated. “And I’d like it to stay that way. You can imagine why.”

“Oh, I can.” Theo said with a wicked smirk, “because if they turn on you now, imagine what would happen if they knew what you’ve told me. Hell, I’m sure I’ve barely scratched the surface!”

Stiles glared, partially to sell the act, and partially out of annoyance. Theo wasn’t saying anything useful yet, that was the whole point of this delusion. If Theo thought he had the upper hand then first he would get cocky, then careless, then chatty. So far, he’d only hit cockyness.

Theo shifted in his chair, and Stiles was horrified to see some of the ropes shift with them. Theo had gotten very far in sawing them off. There was still all the mountain ash, but it was still unsettling. Kevin shot him a nervous look out of the corner of his eye.

Theo cocked his head to the side. “Tell me, Stiles, this building you have. You said it’s surrounded in mountain ash. Why?”

“Other than to stop you from escaping?” Stiles asked.

Theo looked around in the bare gray room with the hanging bulb, the same room Dean had been tied up in a year(ish) prior. “This place probably has a lot of other stuff in it, lurking about. It’s a like fortress, or a _safehouse_. Why do you need this building, Stiles? Do your friends know about this? Actually, don’t answer that, they probably can’t even walk through the front door.”

Stiles didn’t point out that -much like Deaton’s animal clinic- they could walk through the door, until it was shut. But he didn’t say anything because this had stopped going according to plan. Theo had struck a nerve. Scott _didn’t_ know about this safe house, _Lydia_ didn’t even know about this safehouse, and as long as Stiles could keep it, it would stay that way. Scott, micromanaging, paranoid, over-responsible werewolf he was, wouldn’t like it. Everyone else- especially Liam, Malia, and Kira,- would be deeply unsettled. And then Stiles would have to explain why he adopted a safe house complete with weapons, another whiteboard, wolfsbane, vervain, rock salt, demon wards, _angel_ wards, silver, more weapons, lots of lore books, and emergency rations. Or why the building had enough mountain ash around the doors and windows to turn it into the perfect hiding place against an onslaught of supernaturals.

Or the perfect prison.

No, why could Stiles possibly need that?

_Focus, Stiles!_ he chided himself. _Don’t let him trick the trickster!_

But which one was the trickster, really?

_I am._ A voice Stiles didn’t always agree with said. _And I’m done playing around._

“It’s irrelevant.” Stiles said coldly, and Theo looked surprised but not undeterred at his chance in attitude. “What matters is that you’re here, now, and you’re not getting out. So why don’t you tell me about this big master plan of yours?”

Theo laughed. Actually threw his head back and laughed. “That’s funny,” he said with a trademark grin, “that you’d actually think I’d just do that. But you intrigue me, Stiles. Clearly, there’s more to you than meets the eye.” he gestured as best as he could, which was a little more than Stiles would have liked, to the room around him. “So why don’t I offer a deal? A secret for a secret, a skeleton for a skeleton? My closet’s a little dusty, I’d hate to see yours.”

Stiles pondered at how he always ended up back here, making deals with devils. Kevin seemed to know this, too, because he caught Stiles’ eye and began frantically shaking his head. Theo saw this and his mouth curved upwards again. According to him, he was winning.

According to Stiles, he wasn’t sure.

“Fine.” Stiles said emotionlessly, but already his heart sank as he once again stepped on to moral gray ground. He knew what he was doing was stupid. Theo may have claws but his biggest weapon was words, twisting them into bullets and daggers, and here was Stiles about to give him a truckload of ammunition. “What do you want to know?” _Hook, line, and sinker._

The predatory look Theo gave him was scary. Stiles could see him sifting through his thoughts, trying to find the right questions to ask. Eventually he found one and the predatory look deepened. Stiles suppressed a shudder.

“When was your first kill?” Theo asked.

That wasn’t what Stiles was expecting, but he needed to learn to stop being surprised. Theo was trying to recreate what Kai Parker had done to him, and while he most likely wouldn’t be successful, Stiles could see now that Theo was trying to get a gauge on Stiles’ mental state.

“Hm...” Stiles pondered, doing his best to keep the tone light. “I salted and burned my first ghost when I was eight. But I don’t suppose that’s what you meant. My first real kill, of something solid, was a vampire when I was sixteen.” He tried to ignore how Theo’s eyes had lit up upon hearing the word ‘kill.’

Theo scoffed. “Ghosts. Vampires.” he murmured, looking at the floor in slight disbelief. Then his head eagerly snapped back up to Stiles so fast it made the other boy flinch. “Now when did you kill something that wasn’t already dead?”

“You first.” Stiles said accusingly, but inside his heart had sunk. He was already regretting this deal. It took everything he knew and placed it into Theo’s hands, with only the slightest possibility of a return in the investment.

“Oh, I made my first kill when I was eight years old.” Theo replied, looking downright smug.

“That wasn’t what I was gonna-” Stiles began to say but then he stopped. _Eight years old. Christ, Dean wasn’t even that young._ “Wait a minute,” Stiles began hesitantly, and Theo’s smug look broadened the more Stiles looked unsettled. “Eight years old, that- that’s fourth grade. That’s when your sister- _oh my god_.” Stiles looked at Theo, horrified, but then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s what his brain had been telling him for nine tortuous weeks, begging for him to connect the dots. Theo was not to be trusted, sure, and Stiles knew he was a sadist and a killer, but he wasn’t expecting this.

It looks like he had underestimated Theo a fourth time.

“I always knew you were a black-hearted, psychopathic son of a bitch,” Stiles began in an angry tone of voice that would have made any Winchester proud, “but I thought even you were above fratricide. You probably watched her freeze to death, didn’t you, looking on because the whole process was so fascinating, not even caring that a person was fading from existence!” Stiles was shouting by the time he finished.

Theo looked untroubled but looks could be deceiving. “Did you care when you killed Donovan?” he asked, and was Stiles imagining the edge of defensiveness in his voice? “Or did you only see him as a removed obstacle? I don’t have to explain myself to you, but I assure you, my motives were not much different. Besides, it’s my turn to ask a question.”

Stiles sighed, processing the information. He really should have known. When Stiles and Theo had been alone in his jeep, Stiles had seen something off about Theo, a coldness that slipped past his kind and loving mask. And it had been right as he was talking about his sister.

Christ, it was obvious.

“Ask away.” Stiles mumbled in defeat, avoiding Kevin’s eyes out of pure shame.

Theo nodded, but he looked a little less playful. “Same question. When was the last time you killed something that wasn’t already dead?” His tone was much more somber.

Stiles slouched under the weight of the question, closing his eyes as he pictured it. _‘It was a spectacular sunset, and the view from Derek’s loft, with it’s vast windows drinking in the rays, would have been perfect under different circumstances. Under_ any _different circumstances.’_

His mind became a blur of guns, knives, gold paint on the ceiling, and black eyes.

“A year ago.” he said quietly. Both Theo and Kevin leaned forward to hear him better. “Give or take a few months. A year.” A year of shattered trust being slowly re-knitted, only to be unraveled by so many things.

“And what happened?” Theo whispered, hoping Stiles would forgo their game a moment so he could glean some information.

Stiles wasn’t having it. His eyes snapped to Theo’s with the ferocity of cold steel. “It’s my turn.” he said, just as coldly.

“How long have you been working with the dread doctors?”

Both Theo and Kevin looked startled at the directness of the question, but Stiles didn’t care.

He was so, very done with mind games.

Theo’s startledness, though, gave way to a glowing self-confidence that Stiles didn’t like at all, and he stood up and pushed his chair away, standing over Theo.

Theo craned his neck to look up at him with a languid grin. “A long time.” he said simply. “Long enough to do this.” And suddenly he stood up, the ropes falling away with ease. Stiles jumped back in surprise and Theo smirked as he very intently stepped over the mountain ash circle and into Stiles’ space.

“What?” Stiles asked, his brain stubbornly refusing to work as he backed away from Theo, confused. _Werewolves can’t touch mountain ash, never mind step over it!_ Then it clicked, and confusion was replaced with horror. “You’re a chimera.”

Theo looked proud. “I’m the first chimera.” he said haughtily, and no, Stiles wasn’t imagining the entitlement the other boy was carrying.

It looks like Stiles had underestimated Theo a fifth time. Because Stiles was counting on Theo not being on even footing with the Doctors, of the Doctors turning on him, but if Theo was their first, their _success_ , then they were working together more than Stiles had originally thought. Which means they all had the same endgame and unlimited resources to achieve it.

If Stiles wasn’t screwed before, he certainly was now.

Suddenly, Theo’s hand came out of no where, striking Stiles across the cheek with enough force to knock him to the ground. Pain radiated from his face but Stiles ignored it, seeing Kevin fall to the floor a moment later, out cold. Theo was walking to the door and Stiles wasted no time in scrambling under the table, reaching for the thing he had put there just in case.

Theo had his hand on the doorknob when a tell-tale _click!_ made him hault. He turned his head and saw Stiles, sprawled on his back on the ground, with both hands on the trigger of a very old gun pointed at his head.

“Don’t move.” Stiles said forcefully, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually was. “Or I will shoot, and chimera or not, these bullets will kill you.”

Theo turned his body to face Stiles, a mocking grin gracing his features, but nevertheless he raised his clawed arms in defense. “You won’t kill me, Stiles.” he said.

“You sure about that?” Stiles asked, but he knew Theo was right. _Damn him and his logic._

“I am.” Theo said, and yeah, he sounded confident. “Because you were right. Kidnapping me did declare war on the Doctors. And killing me will do a lot worse.”

“What, like apocalypse worse? Cause buddy, I’ve done that before.” Stiles said, but the pain in his cheek and his blurring vision prevented him from putting any genuine weight to the words. “But what about if I shoot somewhere else?” he asked, lowering his gun to Theo’s knee. “I’ve shot out a werewolf’s knee before, and let me tell you, it was immensely satisfying. I wonder if yours can grow back the way theirs did.”

Theo looked taken aback for a second, but that quickly vanished. Stiles glanced over to Kevin, who was still out cold.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Stiles.” Theo said with an almost pitying grin.

“Why the hell not?” Stiles grit out, his fingers twitching on the Colt’s trigger.

Theo flashed him a wide smile.

“Because then you’ll never find your father.”  
_WHAT????_ Stiles’ brain screamed, but it was too late, because by the time the gun had fallen from Stiles’ hands in shock, Theo was already out the door and on to his next target.


	5. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading, and for the awesome comments. So to get rid of some confusion, let me explain: there's a bit of a time jump in this chapter, of a couple hours. When Stiles wakes up at the beginning of the chapter, the events of episode 10 (i.e. the fight at the school) have already happened or are just ending, with some alterations. From then on, everything kind of ignores canon a little bit, (a lot) and the entire rest of the story takes place in a time span of about 36 hours. If anyone's confused, just comment and I'll try to explain. Enjoy!

Ch. 5

Bad Moon Rising

Stiles woke up to his alarm clock hitting him in the shoulder repeatedly. Except it wasn’t his alarm clock, it was Kevin. And he wasn’t in his bed. He was on the floor of his safehouse, his friend hovering worriedly above him, looking panicked.

“Stiles!” Kevin shouted, “Wake up!”

Stiles winced, sifting through the ringing in his ears and his cloudy head. Kevin was yelling at him. It must be important. He was in his safehouse because of Theo. Theo...

Stiles sat bolt upright, startling Kevin, who fell backwards with an indignant squack.

“Stiles!” Kevin said with relief.”You’re awake!”

“Mhm.” Stiles muttered, his eyes flitting from the broken ropes encased in an unbroken circle of mountain ash, to the overturned chairs, to the ajar door and it all came back to him. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, pulling Kevin up with him. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin said apologetically. “I woke up literally just before you did. The last thing I remember is Theo breaking the ropes and stepping over the mountain ash, and then he hit you. He must have hit me next.”

“He did.” Stiles said affirmatively, finishing his sweep of the room and gesturing for the pair to exit it before closing the door and taking stock of the rest of the treatment plant. “And then I tried to shoot him before I passed out.” He was being a bit stoic, he knew, but his instincts were kicking in. _Assess the situation. Don’t lose your focus._ It’s what he’d been taught. Anything, everything, to keep himself from thinking of Theo’s parting words.

Kevin and Stiles looked around the treatment plant, and immediately, the two noticed something wrong. Another door was ajar. Stiles and Kevin ran over to it, and saw that it was one of Stiles’ many supply rooms, this one containing dried plants, supernatural ingredients for spells, holy water, wolfsbane, rock salt... and mountain ash.

“Anything missing?” Kevin asked, watching as Stiles’ eyes rapidly moved from left, to right, and back again as he took inventory.

Stiles gulped, dread pooling in his stomach. “Yeah. One jar of mountain ash.”

Kevin turned to look at what Stiles was staring at, an empty space on a shelf where a large jar should have been. He, too, felt dread.

“What could he possibly want with that?”

Stiles swiftly shut the door to the closet, winching at the loud noise it made. “We need to leave.” he said curtly. “Now.”

Stiles looked at Kevin, who nodded in understanding, and the two ran across the open space of the treatment plant and the two ran to the wide wooden double doors leading outside. They burst into the outside world, only to find it crushingly dark.

“No, no, NO!!!!” Stiles exclaimed as he ran from the plant and turned around, gazing with horror at a twinkling, starry sky- and the bulbous moon suspended in it.

Kevin raced to catch up with him, panting, heart racing. “We must’ve been out for at least seven hours.” he said, bending down and catching his breath while Stiles stared at the moon with sadness. “Enough time for the moon to rise.”

“Enough time for Theo to carry out his plans.” Stiles said venomously. “Kevin, he could have done anything! He could be doing anything! He’s working with the Dread Doctors, and his plan was centered around the full moon! We need to find him now!”

“Stiles, slow down!” Kevin shouted, matching Stiles’ volume, and not liking the way his friend’s hands were waving hysterically in the air. “Theo had at least seven hours! Enough time to execute order 66, yeah, but also enough time to tie us up, bleed us out, or slit our throats! Why would he leave us unscathed, Stiles, unless he wanted it that way? This isn’t a guy who makes decisions on a whim, and last I checked, you were his arch nemesis! We have no idea what’s been going on the last couple hours, we have no idea what we’re walking into, we’re entirely in the dark, and it’s _vital_ that we stay one step ahead! We need to stop and think this through!”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Stiles roared, putting his hands on Kevin’s shoulders and shoving him backwards. Kevin stumbled a couple of steps and looked shocked.

“Then enlighten me!” Kevin shouted, shoving Stiles right back. Stiles took an angry swing at Kevin’s jaw, but because he was under such emotional duress, Kevin merely sidestepped it.

“We can’t wait around!” Stiles said frantically, wringing his hands. “We- we need to find them. We need to find Scott and Liam and Hayden- and- and- and we need to find _him_.”

“Him?” Kevin asked softly, now that Stiles had progressed from anger to frantic fear. He took a step forward cautiously. “Who do we need to find?”

“My dad.” Stiles whispered, looking crestfallen. “Theo, I was going to shoot him. But he said if I hurt him, I’d never find my dad.”

“Okay.” Kevin said comfortingly. Mentally, he was drawing several blanks and teetering on the edge of panic, but he decided that no one needed to know that. “Okay. We’ll find him, Stiles, I promise, but first we need to find Scott and the others, and make sure they’re okay. And before we do that, I believe you have some calls to make.”

Without another word, Kevin turned on his heel and entered the water treatment plant/safehouse, making a beeline for his abandoned laptop. Stiles trailed dutifully after him, gazing forlornly at the silver moon.

 

It was right about that time that Scott stood on the roof of the school and crushed his inhaler in a rage, and watched a purple puff of smoke emerge.

“Wolfsbane.” he murmured, and the betrayal hit him like an arrow in the heart. _Stiles filled my inhaler with wolfsbane._

 

“Unbelievable.” Kevin muttered as he surveyed the small, gray room Theo had previously been tied up in. “Theo didn’t even touch my laptop. He really must have been in a hurry.”

“Or he thought it didn’t matter.” Stiles said gruffly as he rightened one of the overturned chairs and sat in it. “Or he tampered with it. I’m betting the former. I doubt the Doctors have anything we could hack into.”

“And I could always find Derek and Jackson again.” Kevin muttered. “Speaking of which-” he gestured for Stiles to fish out his phone- something else that Theo oddly hadn’t messed with. “Call them. Now. We just declared war on the son of a bitch, and we need backup.”

“Okay.” Stiles muttered, taking out his phone and unlocking it. He checked it to see if Theo had messed with anything, but other than the flurry of texts he had sent Scott earlier that day, there was nothing. Quickly, he dialed the number for Derek that Kevin’s computer showed.

“Hello?” A familiar, gruff voice answered.

“Derek, it’s me.” Stiles said, resisting the urge to feel sad. He never realized until now that he had missed the sourwolf. “How’s South America?”

“Stiles?” Derek asked in disbelief.

“As if you’re actually surprised.” Stiles chided.

There was silence for a heartbeat, and then Derek spoke again.

“What the hell kind of mess have you gotten yourself into now?”

 

Scott could feel Liam’s claws digging into his chest, but it was more than just pain. It was friendship and trust, broken apart because of the spell of a full moon. Even before Mason interrupted them, before Liam could finish the job, Scott’s last thought before collapsing from blood loss and near cardiac arrest was that the only person who hadn’t betrayed him was Theo.

 

“And how is the lovely Jackson Whittemore?” Kevin asked lightly as Stiles hung up on his third call of the day.

“He’s good.” Stiles mumbled. “Talked my ear off about leaving him out of things, but once he heard that Danny was coming back and Lydia was in danger he practically hopped on a red-eye.” He was looking a lot less freaked out, but his fingers were still twitching, like he was itching to wrap them around his little silver knife.

“Where was he?” Kevin asked. “London?”

Stiles shook his head. “Boston. We were lucky. He came back into the states this weekend only for some college thing called the Green Arrow Initiative.”

Kevin whistled. “That is lucky.”

“Can we go now?” Stiles asked impatiently, his uneasiness manifesting more clearly now that he no longer had direction.

“Yeah.” Kevin said, gathering his things, and he could feel the urgency from earlier mounting again. “Yeah lets go save your friends.”

Suddenly, Stiles’ phone chimed.

Both he and Kevin looked at it like a live explosion.

“It’s a text.” Stiles muttered. “From Theo.”

His head snapped up and he locked eyes with Kevin.

“Read it!” Kevin urged.

Stiles’ hands shook as he opened the message. Then he read it, and his hands shook even more, so much so that his phone clattered loudly to the floor.

“It’s an address.” Stiles said hoarsely. “And supposedly, my dad is there. In critical condition. Theo also said Scott is dying. Kevin, I- I have to choose. I have to choose who to save. My- my Dad or Scott. And he sent a picture of my dad, so I know he isn’t lying.”

“Stiles-” Kevin began, but Stiles cut him off.

“I have to CHOOSE! KEVIN, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?”

“Stiles, STOP!” Kevin shouted, standing up and pulling Stiles to his feet, before enveloping him into a hug.

“It isn’t a choice.” he whispered.

 

Stiles picked his dad, because Kevin was right, it wasn’t a choice. And he found his dad and he brought him to the hospital, and was prepared to sit outside of his room all night, when a shadow fell over him at 5 in the morning.

Stiles looked up, and saw pink scrubs, dark curls, and angry, teary eyes.

“Melissa.” Stiles said casually, smiling even as his fingers and feet tapped out an incessant rhythm of impatience. “Hi.”

“Stiles.” Melissa McCall said, and Stiles quirked his eyebrow at her unusually cold tone. Now that Stiles’ dad was reasonably safe and in the hospital, Stiles was a lot calmer now, and thinking a lot more clearly. Which means he noticed the way Melissa stood uncharacteristically ramrod straight, her clipboard clutched unusually tightly to her chest. And even though she stood in front of a ceiling light, making her face hard to read, Stiles could see that she was undoubtedly furious. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”

Funnily enough, Stiles could also tell that she didn’t really mean it. Which was more than odd. What was going on?

“I’m sorry too.” Stiles mumbled, looking down at the tiled floor, a sense of foreboding beginning to creep up on him. “The doctors said I found him just in time.”

They also said that they had no idea what was wrong with him, just that he had been fading fast.

“That happened to Scott, too.”

Stiles looked sharply up at Melissa again, and almost stood up in surprise. “What?” he asked kind of loudly.

Melissa grimaced. “Like you don’t know.” she said, and okay, Stiles wasn’t imagining the resentment in her voice. “I know you boys had a fight the other day, but don’t you think trying to kill him is going a little far? Last night I found him bleeding out in the library, a hair away from death, and if I had come there ten minutes later I would have found his body.” There were fresh tears shining in her eyes as she recollected the incident, and Stiles would have comforted her if he wasn’t so terribly confused.

This time, Stiles did stand up. “What?” he asked again, louder this time. He got some looks from some people down the hall but he didn’t care. He stood in front of Melissa, almost confronting her. “Scott’s hurt? What happened?”

“Like you don’t know.” Melissa said again, and there wasn’t an ounce of spite in her words. But all of it was accusatory. “Like you didn’t do something to manipulate Liam into killing Scott!”

“Why would I do that?” Stiles asked, limbs with minds of their own as he flailed wildly to understand everything. “Why would Liam want to kill Scott? Why would I want to kill Scott? When would I have accomplished this?”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed, unfazed by his questions. “You tell me, Stiles, because no one knows where you were last night. Malia can’t vouch for you. Neither can Lydia. So, answer the question, and maybe I’ll begin to believe you. Where. Were. You. Last. Night?”

“I-” Stiles began to say, but he stopped short, eyes wide in understanding. He couldn’t say where he was last night because where he was wasn’t supposed to exist.

Melissa’s eyes narrowed even more, and she opened her mouth surely to scold him or hit him or-

“Stiles?”

Both Melissa and Stiles whirled to see Kevin Tran, in all of his glory, holding two steaming coffee mugs.

“Sorry I took so long.” Kevin said abashedly, his eyes flitting from Melissa to Stiles and back again in sheer confusion and mild alarm. “The line for coffee was out the door. Anyway, I got you a cup.” He held one styrofoam cup of coffee out for Stiles to take, which he did, mumbling thanks, not just for the beverage, but for the lifeline.

“Thanks, Kevin.” Stiles said with an air of finality. Then he turned to Melissa. “You asked me where I was.” he said. “I was with him. And I don’t care if you believe me, I just want to make sure my dad is okay.” He knew he was being rude, but she started it.

Melissa looked from Stiles to Kevin, her mouth set in a grim line as she accepted that pursuing their conversation was useless. She began to walk away, but she hadn’t gone ten feet before turning around and speaking.

“I know about Donovan.”

She walked away for good after that, not even sticking around to witness Stiles’ perfectly placid expression shatter into desolate hurt.

 

“You were right.” Stiles muttered a few hours later as he and Kevin still sat outside the ICU.

“About what?” Kevin asked. He had at some point dug out his laptop and resumed translating the tablet.

“We were walking in blind. Theo made his move, something bad happened to Scott, and it looks like they’re blaming me for it. I texted half the pack, no response. I think I’m on my own now.”

“You have me.” Kevin said, patting Stiles’ shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, “but I feel like things are about to get worse. I feel like Theo’s still moving around pieces. I feel like Scott, and Malia, and Liam and Lydia and Mason- I feel like he’s going to do something, and they’re all going to turn on me. And here I am, stuck in the ICU, completely in the dark of what went down the past 10 hours. I’m stuck.”

“You’re not stuck, Stiles.” Kevin said. “You just can’t see the whole board.” He shut his laptop with a _snap!_ and sat up. “This is a game of chess. Predict his next move.”

“How?” Stiles asked, staring despairingly at the mint green wall.

Kevin had a mischievous look in his eyes as he began thinking. “If this is a game to Theo, and it is, who are the pieces?”

Stiles sat up a little straighter, his mind already kicking into gear. “Uh....” he said, his mind swimming with possibilities. “Liam’s a pawn, and according to Melissa, he’s already been put in motion. He tried to kill Scott. Hayden’s another pawn, but I have no idea what happened to her.”

“So Liam was his pawn, and he was moved, that means it would have been your turn.”

“Calling Danny.” Stiles said, “and Derek and Jackson. My pawns.”

“At this point, there would have been some space on the board. Maybe either of you would have moved a knight?” Kevin asked.

“Lydia.” Stiles answered immediately. “Lydia would be a knight. Next to a queen she has the most freedom in the board, and she can jump over pieces, i.e. predict their death. Something happened with Lydia.”

“What else, Stiles?” Kevin pressed.

“Parrish is another knight, because he’s just as unpredictable.” Stiles said. “He’s the one taking the bodies of the chimeras to the nemeton. More pawns.”

“What about the bishop?” Kevin asked.

“Deaton.” Stiles replied instantly. “Second to the King and Queen. Deaton on our side, the Doctors on the other. But Deaton’s gone. We’re down a piece.”

“No game of chess is without sacrifice.” Kevin said thoughtfully.

And something clicked for Stiles.

“Hayden.” He said, eyes dilating as he stared at nothing. “Hayden was the sacrifice. She was dying when I kidnapped Theo, I’m betting she’s dead now. Liam was obsessed with saving her. What do you bet his grief combined with the supermoon drove him to do something drastic?”

“Combined with some whispering in his ear?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah!” Stiles nearly shouted. “Which Melissa blames me for. But Liam almost killed Scott in a rage, and that’s bad.”

“But you’re not losing.” Kevin said. “You still have your rooks.”

“Melissa and- and my dad.” Stiles said, and if his voice broke a little, sue him. “Direct, effective. One for medicine, one for law. Both are compromised.” _Recovery time, inconclusive._

“What about the queens?” Kevin asked, “Who are those?”

“I’m a queen.” Stiles said certainly. “Theo’s the other. We have the most freedom out of everyone on the board, and-and we take other pieces easily. Theo isn’t restrained by mountain ash, and neither am I. It makes sense. At one point or another during a game, the queens try to eliminate each other.”

“Okay,” Kevin said, “A little worrying, but okay. The goal of the game, besides checkmate, is to get your pawns to the other side of the board, so they can become queens. Your objective is for everyone to be safe. What’s Theo’s goal?”

“The nemeton.” Stiles said instantly, and it was weird how clearly his brain could think now. “He was always asking about it, and he wants to build a pack. Maybe the nemeton can help with his experiments. The successes, those would be the pawns becoming queens.”

“Okay.” Kevin said slowly. “You know where you stand. You know who’s who. You know what Theo’s endgame is. You took your turn by rescuing your dad. Stiles, what’s Theo’s next move?”  
Stiles sat and thought, but it wasn’t before long before Kevin could see the light of an idea spark in his eye. But it was some time before Stiles straightened, looking beaten down. “Theo’s pack, or his eventual pack, I think that’s his king. But me, mine’s Scott. He’s our Alpha, my best friend, everything. Theo’s trying to take him from me. Once he topples, boom, checkmate. Our pack becomes useless as a less-than-united front. He wins. And guess what? It’s soon. Scott’s injured and surrounded, he trusts Theo, and I’m not sure he’ll let me help him. I’m surrounded, too. I can’t breathe. And Kevin?” Stiles looked at his friend with dead end, exhausted eyes. “I’m in check. The full moon was just the beginning. There’s something bad just over the horizon, coming to finish me off. It’s all going to be over fairly soon.”


	6. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Ch. 6

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

It was eight in the morning when a passing nurse kicked Stiles out of the hospital, assuring him that he would be notified if his dad’s condition changed. At the moment, the sheriff was stable but unconscious.

Stiles’ shoulders sagged as he and Kevin trudged back to his worn down jeep, and once they were both in their respective seats, they reached a quandary.

“Where should we go?” Kevin asked, staring at the dashboard as exhaustion permeated his brain.

“I’m not sure.” Stiles mumbled, but he wasn’t tired. On the contrary, his mind was whirring with endless possibilities as to how the day could play out. “We could go home and sleep...or we could try to hunt down Theo...or we could go see if Scott’s okay since apparently he almost died last night but it’s not like anybody bothered to tell me...or we could-”

Stiles was cut off by a shrill ringing coming from his pocket. Quickly, he fished out his phone, dread pooling in his stomach as he wondered who could possibly be calling him. When he looked at the caller I.D., however, Stiles let out a harsh laugh that didn’t quite meet his eyes. He answered the call with perturbed look.

“Where the hell have you been?” Stiles asked a little harsher than he meant to.

“Oh, we’ve been a little busy closing the gates of hell!” Dean responded angrily. “Of course, if you had bothered to call us the last couple of Sundays, you would have known that!”

“Would you have answered?” Stiles replied icily. Kevin shot him a weird look. “Because if you had then you would know why calling for a chat is a little inconvenient for the both of us.”

Dean sighed. “Yes, Stiles, I know about the Dread Doctors. Kevin told us about them when we got back, from _saving Bobby_ , by the way, but no, I guess you don’t want to hear about that-”

“Why are you calling, Dean?” Stiles challenged, “Since you’re clearly so busy?”

Dean sighed again. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with Kevin.” he admitted. “I saw his little note about running off to help you. And while we did figure out the third trial, and the kid does deserve a break, no one should run off without elaborating while Sam and I are digging through the archives trying to figure out how to kill a demon! We turned our backs for ten minutes and he was gone, Stiles! If it wasn’t for a short, scribbled note, we would have assumed the worst! Let me talk to him.”

Stiles didn’t say anything else to Dean, he merely looked straight at the windshield in annoyance while he handed the phone to a terrified Kevin.

Kevin reluctantly took the phone and slowly brought it up to his ear. “Dean?” he asked hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, if you had stuck around for another twenty minutes, Kevin, you would have known that Sam and I found a videotape that shows how to cure a demon.” Dean said, but he didn’t sound angry, only stressed and possibly sleep deprived. “Cas is in a bad way so he’s hanging with Metatron, meanwhile I’m standing outside an abandoned church while Sam is sewing Abbadon’s corpse together so we can cure her.”

_Abbadon? The freaky closet demon?_ “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dean?” Kevin asked. “I mean, what if she escapes?”

“She won’t.” Dean said forcefully, but it sounded like he was more convincing himself. “We didn’t sew on her hands. We’re out of options, Kevin, and Sam’s not doing so hot. I’ll take psycho demon over no demon if it means getting him better.”

“Okay.” Kevin said, hating how desperate they were. “But what about your other brother? I told you about the Dread Doctors, but I also said that Stiles wanted you guys to come up to Beacon Hills, and you did nothing! Dean, it’s really bad up here. Nogitsune bad. The only reason you and Stiles were yelling at eachother just now is because he’s just as stressed out as you.”

“Look, Kevin,” Dean said, “I’m glad you’re okay, and you’re with Stiles, and for now, I think that will be enough. We’re so close! We can’t give up now! I’ll try to come up to Beacon Hills, but only after we finish the third trial. Don’t worry, though. It should all be over in eight hours.”

Dean hung up before Kevin could stutter out a reply.

Kevin stared straight out the windshield as he wordlessly handed the phone back to Stiles, who looked, there was no other word for it, betrayed.

After a moment of stupefied silence, Kevin cleared his throat. “Sam and Dean are out.” he said regretfully. “Or at least, Sam’s dying and Dean’s distracted.”

“I- I didn’t know.” Stiles said forlornly. “About Cas. Or about how bad Sam’s gotten. I guess the last time I called was a week after I accidentally called you, and even then it was only for information on the Doctors. I mean, I didn’t even know Crowley kidnapped you until you told me in the waiting room! What else have I missed?”

“Nothing.” Kevin said sternly. “Just a lot of bad demons and worse angels, and some old rocks that won’t leave me alone. This isn’t your fault, Stiles. None of it is. From what I can tell, Sam and Dean wanted you to live your life and not end up like- well, me. It isn’t your fault that your life refuses to behave.”

“Or that they somehow get tied up in the worst things.” Stiles muttered. “What is it about demons and angels that refuse to leave my brothers alone?”

“Funny you should mention that.”

Stiles jumped. Kevin jumped out of his skin. And both of them kept their eyes firmly glued to the windshield and did not look at the person who had suddenly materialized, and spoken, in Stiles’ backseat.

“Crowley.” they said in unison.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley said. “Long time, no see. My how things have changed.”

“How did you find me?” Stiles asked tersely. “I’m wearing a hex bag.”

“You are.” Crowley said, nodding even though Stiles couldn’t see. “He isn’t.” Crowley inclined his head towards Kevin.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Kevin asked, voice shaking slightly as he remembered Crowley trying to kill him, and wondering if he came to finish the job.

“Funny you should ask that.” Crowley said, “seeing as you are assisting his brothers to lock me and my demons up in hell. But no, what could I possibly want?”

“If you want to kill us,” Stiles said sternly, “you really picked the wrong day to do it. I hate to bring it to you, Crowley, but I’ve had a really bad morning and killing you might lighten my mood.”

“Easy, Winchester.” Crowley said. “I’m not here to kill you. Frankly as far as I am concerned, you owe me for warning you that you were possessed all those months ago! But I’m not here to call in favors. I’m here on a vendetta against your brothers.”

“What?” Kevin squawked.

Crowley, for once, ignored him. “I’ve spent the last couple of days running around the country and finding the luckiest people. These people, you see, were unfortunate enough to encounter violent supernatural creatures. These people were in danger, minutes, or perhaps seconds away from a gruesome death, only to be saved by two brothers who call themselves the Winchesters. How wonderful. So what did I do with these blessed souls? I killed them.”

Stiles flinched in horror. _Crowley has been killing people Sam and Dean save to get revenge? Then why is he here? Unless... oh no...._

“As far as I am concerned,” Crowley continued, “no one the Winchesters have saved deserves to die more than this annoying rag tag group of teenagers you call a wolf pack. And I was going to simply pick one... perhaps Scott...” Stiles flinched again. “But then I come here, and something’s off. That blasted nemeton sounds like it’s being smothered. The supermoon rises and the alpha I was going to kill was left to die. The supernatural order has been thrown into flux, and unless I want to deal with this, I might as well leave all of you alive and well. So, Stiles, Kevin, _fix it_. Or else very bad things are going to happen, and not just in Beacon Hills.”

“WHAT?” Kevin and Stiles shouted in unison, and the pair turned around to glare at Crowley, but he had, of course, vanished.

 

“That’s it, I’m putting a devil’s trap on the roof of my car!” Stiles shouted into the high ceiling of the treatment plant some minutes later, he and Kevin driving there in blank silence. “I don’t care if I have to carve it into the ceiling with a butter knife!” Angrily, Stiles stalked over to his weapons closet and pulled out a small silver knife, which he began twirling aggressively.

“Easy there, Stiles.” Kevin said, watching the knife with apprehension. “I’m just as freaked out as you are, possibly more, but coming up with a good strategy is one thing, and angrily lashing out is another. Choose which one you want to do.”

“Lashing out.” Stiles growled. “Definitely lashing out. I’m going to find Theo and I’m going to-”

“You’re going to what?” Kevin challenged. “Stab him with your knife? You said it yourself, Stiles, we need to find him. And for all we know, he has a big plan up his sleeve.”

“Oh, he definitely does.” Stiles said, opening the doors to the weapons closet wider, and Kevin whistled at the display of knives, swords, and even one or two rock-salt loaded shotguns. “So we have to move fast. Pick something and get back in the jeep. We’re going to see Scott.”

 

It was 9 a.m. when Stiles pulled in front of Scott’s house, on a school day, nonetheless, but school was closed since there was a sign thrown into the building, at least that’s what the radio had said. And, judging by the absence of a car in the driveway, Melissa was still at work.

Stiles rung the doorbell, and for a brief moment his heart fell as he realised that this was the first time in a long while that he had had to do this. He and Kevin waited, then waited, then waited some more, bouncing on their heels in impatientness. Eventually, ten minutes passed, and Stiles tried to open the door. It was unlocked.

“Scott?” Stiles called, stepping into the foyer. “Scotty? Are you here?” Stiles was met with silence, and it was at moments like these that he really wished he had werewolf senses.

“What should we do?” Kevin mouthed, and Stiles appreciated how un-idiotic Kevin was. Stiles put a finger to his lips, indicating that they should be silent while he looked around. It was then that he noticed the staircase. Or rather, the trail of blood starting at the door and leading across the foyer and up the staircase. The blood itself wasn’t disturbing- Scott was a busy werewolf, and sometimes he got hurt- it was the way the blood was splattered, even drips every few feet. Scott hadn’t walked, bleeding, up the stairs. He had been carried.

He was probably every bit as injured as Mrs. McCall had said, and he might still be hurt.

Slowly, Stiles crept up the stairs. Unless Scott was unconscious, he already knew they were in the house, and if he was unconscious, he wouldn’t be very surprised by their presence. No, Stiles was being quiet in case someone else was there. Stiles and Kevin cautiously crept down the hallway on the way to Scott’s bedroom. Once they were there, they stood on either side of the doorway, Stiles with one hand wrapped around the silver knife in his pocket, the other around the doorhandle, and Kevin with his weapon. The two looked at eachother, and Stiles mouthed _‘One... Two...Three...’_ and then quickly he opened the door and the pair shuffled into Scott’s room.

Scott was sitting up in his bed, arms crossed over his severely bandaged abdomen, clearly waiting for them, with his mouth set in a grim line.

Stiles took his hand out of his pocket, and Kevin lowered his weapon. “Heya, Scotty.” Stiles said lamely, feeling abashed. Scott had probably heard them being all stealthy. Why did they bother sneaking up to Scott’s room? What exactly were they expecting to find, other than Scott, perfectly fine, if a little weary-looking, and all alone?

“Stiles.” Scott said monotonically, but Stiles could hear the layer of exhaustion lurking underneath. “I figured you’d swing bye.”

Stiles shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were okay. Clearly, you are.”

“Yeah, but who’s your friend, and why does he have a water pistol?”

Stiles and Kevin glanced down at the weapon, or rather the tiny orange and green water pistol Kevin had lowered next to his leg. It was all he had been comfortable taking.

“Uhh... This is Kevin.” Stiles said with a bit of a haphazard gesture. “He’s a bit odd.” Kevin raised his other hand half-heartedly in greeting.

“Great.” Scott said bluntly, crossing his arms and basically implying anything but. “Why are you here, Stiles?”

“Because last I heard from you, you practically slammed a door in my face!” Stiles exclaimed. “That was 36 hours ago! Look at you now!”

“I thought I made it clear for you to not get involved.” Scott said with gritted teeth, and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was through anger at him or pain of speaking.

“Yeah, well, I find out my best friend gets clawed up, I’m going to make sure he’s okay!” Stiles said, beginning to be a little put out by Scott’s attitude. It was uncharacteristic of Scott to be so angry about something they fought about over a day ago. There was what Melissa had said.... but there was no way Scott believed Stiles was behind Liam’s attack.

Right?

“How did you find out about this, anyway?” Scott asked, looking like he was expecting Stiles to trip over an answer.

“You know, that’s an excellent question, Scott. I was a bit surprised that nobody texted me that our alpha got injured. Actually, screw that. I was a bit surprised that no one said that my _best friend_ got injured. I had to hear it from your mom, at the hospital of all places!”

Scott had the decency to look guilty. Then he looked confused. “Why were you at the hospital?” he asked.

Stiles looked incredulous. “Oh, didn’t I mention? My dad’s in the E.R. and comatose, and no one, least of all his doctors, knows why. Oh, except I did mention that. Or I would have, if you had answered your phone the 62 times that I called you. Or if you had read the 15 texts I sent you.”

This time, Scott flinched. He still wore his stoic expression, but Stiles had hope. Until he realized that he couldn’t see Scott’s hands anymore. Then his heart plummeted through his stomach and landed somewhere on the first floor, shattered in a million pieces.

“And here was me hoping you’d lost your phone.” Stiles muttered.

“What?” Scott asked, startled, although they both knew that he had heard Stiles perfectly fine.

“I thought you lost your phone.” Stiles said. “Or it broke or someone took it. But you’re texting someone underneath your covers, aren’t you? What, are you telling people that I’m here? Well then why couldn’t you have just said?”

Scott was startled again, but Stiles could see the moment where he remembered that in a world of werewolves and kitsunes, Stiles was the most observant of any of them. Then his eyes dropped down to the floor and his bed shifted in a way that showed that he had put the phone down.

“We didn’t know where you were.” Scott mumbled. “We were worried.”

“Oh, sure.” Stiles said with a scoff, a sense of foreboding creeping up on him. Kevin must’ve felt it too, for he glanced at Stiles and subtly tilted his head towards the door. Stiles wanted to leave as well, but first, he had to be sure.

He had to know if Scott really and truly thought him to be a monster.

“Scott, I’ve been at the hospital since ten o’clock last night!” Stiles said, arms spread wide in indignation. “I haven’t exactly been a moving target!”

Scott looked a little unsure of himself upon hearing that, either because he was feeling bad for Stiles’ dad or because he wasn’t expecting that answer, but he pressed anyway. “Well where were you before then?” Scott asked, beginning to sound frustrated. “All day yesterday! You’ve been unaccounted for since- since the animal clinic!”

“You mean since you kicked me to the curb and basically told me to turn myself in?” Stiles asked cooly. _Damn. I promised myself I wouldn’t bring Donovan into this. I guess that’s unavoidable. And I need to tell him about Theo! But first I need to clear my name, it’ll be the only chance I have of Scott believing me. Otherwise, I’ll just be the boy who cried chimera._ “‘Unaccounted for?’” Stiles continued. “What is this, a school field trip? I was at my house, you know, maybe wallowing in the fact that my best friend thinks I’m a murderer! Did anyone actually check to see where I was? Or did you just assume I have something to hide?” He did have something to hide, a whole stockpile of weapons and information, but Scott didn’t need to know that just yet.

Scott, instead of collapsing under the weight of pain he had caused Stiles, did something so unlike him Stiles was tempted to see if he was possessed. He got angry.

“Why would I assume that?” Scott parroted bitterly, and if he wasn’t bedridden Stiles would be very concerned for his own safety. “Because you always DO have something to hide! You hide how you’re feeling, you hide what you think about things, you-”

“-hide that my brothers are accused serial killers and hunt monsters for a living?” Stiles finished. “It always comes back to this, doesn’t it. When are you going to start trusting me, Scott?”

“When you start being honest with me, Stiles!”

Scott was right. Stiles wasn’t entirely honest. And this conversation wasn’t taking the turn he had expected. But at this point, Stiles really needed to learn to stop being surprised.

“It’s called a leap of faith, Scotty. Maybe you should try it.”

Now, Scott looked furious. “You wanna know why I don’t believe you, Stiles? Because I was trapped in the library around a circle of mountain ash, and one of the only people I know who can handle it is YOU!”

Whatever retort Stiles had died in his throat. Because the missing jar of mountain ash made perfect sense, now, and frankly, what Scott described sounded horrifying. Trapped, being forced to battle your beta, just to stay alive. Theo was cruel, cold,.... and blaming Stiles for his actions.

No. That was very much not okay.

“Or Lydia.” Stiles said fiercely. “Or Deaton. Or Mason. Or-” and he almost said ‘Theo,’ but no, that would not do him any favors. “But naturally you assume me. Because I can’t be trusted, right? Because I’m the friend who twisted a katana in your stomach and shot you in the knee. Never mind that I wasn’t in my right head either time-”

“No, it’s because I know you.” Scott said softly. Stiles thought about the ring of mountain ash around his safehouse, and considered accepting defeat. But no. He knew, down to his core, that he would never do that to Scott. Not unless it was to keep him safe.

“You don’t know me at all.” Stiles said with horror. “Not if you think I’d do something like that.”

“I don’t know _him_.” Scott said, nodding towards Kevin.

“That’s Kevin.” Stiles repeated.

“Kevin what?” Scott asked. “Kevin who? Is he a-”

“A hunter?” Stiles interrupted. “No, you know what? He’s not! He’s a computer nerd who used to be an honor roll student! It does always come back to this, doesn’t it? We try so hard, but we always end up here!”

“End up where, Stiles?” Scott asked, but not before shooting Kevin an apologetic glance.

“I’ll ask you again, Scott. What makes you so sure that I laid down the mountain ash?”

Scott faltered for a moment, and Stiles dared to hope. Then the truth came out.

“It’s because I know who you are.” Scott paraphrased.

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head sadly. “It’s because you know _what_ I am. Or at least you think you do.”

“I-” Scott was at a loss for words, the guilt finally beginning to weigh on him. But by then it was too late.

“A murderer.” Stiles said. “A liar. A _hunter_. Say what’s on your mind, Scott. They aren’t dirty words.”

“I-” Scott tried again, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what to say.

“We’ve had this fight before, Scott.” Stiles said. “Outside the animal clinic, in New Orleans, that one time when I killed Alexander. We’ve had this fight to the point where it’s exhausting. Well you want to know something told to my brother by the devil himself? ‘No matter what choices you make, no matter what details you alter, you will always end up here. _We_ will always end up here.’ The kicker? The devil was disguised as his brother. I can only hope that’s what you stop seeing me as.”

“Hope? You’re not going to pray?” Scott asked in a hoarse voice.

Stiles shook his head. “I’ve told you about some of my brothers’ kills. Why would the gods listen to their hunter?”

It was a bad cue. Because right then, the door that Kevin had shut burst back open, and there stood Parrish in his deputy uniform, gun raised and aimed directly at Stiles.

“Stiles!” he said in a very official and impersonal voice, “hands in the air!” Stupefied, Stiles did as he was told, and Parrish grabbed his wrists and slapped a pair of cuffs on him. _Scott was texting Parrish. Scott planned this. Unbelievable!_ “Stiles Winchester,” Parrish continued, “You are under arrest for the murder of Donovan Donati. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at government expense...” As Parrish read him his rights and led him away from a dumbstruck Kevin and a grim Scott, all Stiles could think of was his sixth mistake.

He had underestimated Scott McCall.

And he really, really, shouldn’t have been surprised. And he wasn’t.

He was blindsided.

He was out of the house, now, and Parrish was leading him to his squad car, but Stiles had to know.

“Scott!” he shouted. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Scott heard him. He had to have. But there was pure silence as Parrish (not without an apologetic look) shoved him into the backseat of the squad car, somewhere he had been before but never, never like this.  
There was something ironic about the son of a cop being arrested by the local supernatural bodysnatcher. But for the life of him, Stiles couldn’t figure out what.


	7. Beacon Prison Blues

Ch. 7

Beacon Prison Blues

To say Parrish entering the police station with Stiles in handcuffs made a scene was an understatement. Every deputy, even the ones on the phone, stood up and watched as Stiles was led away to the small holding cell near the desks, the same holding cell that had held Parrish not 48 hours earlier, and also Donovan.

Donovan, when he had been alive and not taunting Stiles from beyond the grave.

No one said anything, though, not when Parrish removed his cuffs and put him in the jail cell nor when he walked away. And slowly, the officers got back on the phone or the radio and resumed typing on the computer, and business returned as usual. Were it not for the frequent disbelieving glances in his direction, Stiles might as well not have been there.

As Stiles sat down on the stiff wooden bench the cell had instead of a bed or chair, he figured that he had three options. He could fume about Theo, his master plans (this had him written all over it), his hold on Scott, and his general bane of existence; he could worry about his dad who was both comatose and unable to get him out of murder charges; or he could worry about Kevin, alone in a strange town with a hostile wolf pack, his only ally thrown in jail. Stiles decided to think about all three simultaneously. The effect was less than pleasant.

Eventually, Parrish walked back up to him, most likely to check on him because he was a decent human being (near enough, anyway) and had just arrested a friend. Stiles looked up from where he had been sitting and staring at the floor.

“Why am I still here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I be getting processed? Fingerprints, mug shots, ugly orange jumpsuits, the whole shebang?”

Parrish sighed. “You’re a minor, Stiles, and your parental guardian is unconscious, not to mention our boss. No one’s quite sure what to do with you.”

Stiles hadn’t even thought about that. But he knew better than to be fooled into thinking there was a way out of this. Theo, being the one to hurt the sheriff in the first place, probably had thought about it, and had something up his sleeve.

“I don’t suppose you can just let me go?” Stiles asked with a crooked grin that his heart wasn’t into at all. The morning light was streaming into his cell, so Stiles could perfectly see Parrish’s saddened eyes as he shook his head no.

“You’ve been charged for murder, Stiles. Son of an unconscious sheriff or not, we can’t just let you go.”

“On what evidence?” Stiles asked, “If you don’t mind me asking?” The body was gone, so what could they possibly have on him.

“An eyewitness account.” Parrish admitted reluctantly.

_Theo._ The clever bastard. He’d probably waltzed down to the sheriff station the moment he had escaped.

“Well isn’t there some protocol for if the sheriff can’t be reached?” Stiles asked a bit hysterically, the thought of being trapped in his cell while Theo screwed up everything positively unbearable. “Some second in command or something?”

“There is.” Parrish said with a nod. “But everyone’s a little busy, Stiles, dealing with at least four other deaths. Even if they weren’t busy, no one wants to handle your case. The sheriff was hospitalized last night. There’s every bit of a possibility that he will wake up soon.”

“The Doctors did something to him.” Stiles said sternly. “He won’t wake up. He might as well be being held hostage.”

Parrish let out a hefty sigh. “Then you better hope you have some angels on your shoulder, Stiles.” he said, looking truly sorry. “Or else you’re in for a rough night.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

_Angels._ Stiles thought with a scoff. _Not quite._

Oh, how right he was.

 

All Kevin could do while Stiles was being led away was stare open-mouthed. And then a few minutes later, he heard him shout “Scott! Do you think I’m a monster?” Scott had flinched horribly, looking guilty as hell, but he didn’t do anything. He couldn’t what with a healing abdomen, but still.

Kevin was about to run after Stiles- and do what he wasn’t sure, but it probably involved breaking things- when Scott spoke.

“Stop.”

Kevin didn’t really have to listen to Scott. he wasn’t his alpha, or even his friend, but it was in Stiles’ best interest that he complied. So he turned away from the door and towards Scott. “Yeah, Scott?”

“Who are you, Kevin?” Scott asked in what he probably thought was a commanding tone, but Kevin knew better. He had, after all, been interrogated by the King of Hell.

“Kevin Tran. Associate of Stiles, as well as the other WInchesters.”

Scott didn’t look surprised that Kevin knew Sam and Dean. He had probably drawn that conclusion several minutes earlier.

“Why are you here?” Scott asked. Kevin really didn’t want to answer him. He didn’t owe Scott anything, not after the guy called the cops on his friend for a death he didn’t understand. He was saved the choice, however, by the sound of footsteps trudging up the stairs. Soon a girl with shocking red hair ran into the room, breathless.

“Scott!” she said, sparing Kevin a quick glance. “What the hell happened?”

“Hey, Lydia.” Scott said wearily in greeting. Lydia wasted no time in running over and sitting on the edge of his bed, examining the bandages over his stomach.

“You still need these?” she asked.

“Yeah.” he said with a small groan. “The wounds have healed, for the most part, but the skin is still scabbing and tender. If I’m not careful, they could open back up.”

Lydia gave a hiss of sympathy, wincing at his description.

Then she slapped him across the face. Hard.

“You IDIOT!” she exclaimed. “What were you thinking, getting Stiles arrested!”

Scott was comically at a loss for words. Kevin was left in awe at the force of nature that was Lydia Martin.

“He- he killed Donovan!” Scott sputtered.

“You think I don’t know that?” Lydia exclaimed. “Stiles isn’t the only one smart enough to put two and two together!”

“Well then why didn’t you say anything!” Scott asked angrily. “Lydia, this is a big deal!”

“It wasn’t my place.” Lydia said solemnly. “And I know it is. I’m not dismissing what he could have done. But Scott? Maybe you should have handled it better! This isn’t something you can take back! This is out of your hands, now! Maybe you should have gotten all of the facts before you did something that could expose the supernatural presence in Beacon Hills, or worse, _get Stiles imprisoned for the rest of his life!”_

Scott looked blindsided. “I- I didn’t even think of that.” he said.

Lydia huffed. “Of course you didn’t.” Then she turned on her heel and stormed out the door.

“Where are you going?” Scott called after her.

“I’m going to get Stiles’ side of the story!” Lydia’s disembodied voice yelled. “Since you couldn’t be bothered to!”

The front door slammed shut, and then Kevin and Scott were left staring at each other awkwardly.

Scott cleared his throat, his eyes shifting rapidly to various objects in the room, looking anywhere but at Kevin.

“Can I go now?” Kevin asked.

“No.” Scott said, but it sounded more like a question. Kevin decided to pull up a nearby chair and sit at the foot of Scott’s bed. It was then that he noticed a metallic clanging in his pocket. Kevin turned it inside out and wondered when the hell Stiles had found the time to slip him the keys to the jeep. And one other thing. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

_Stiles knew he was walking into a trap, and he gave me his knife and keys so I could escape._

 

Stiles heard her stomping feet all the way from the door to the station. He knew how she walked, how the entire pack walked, and was therefore unsurprised when Lydia appeared at his cell. Unsurprised, but still wondering why she was there at all.

“You let yourself get arrested?” she hissed, and Stiles quirked his eyebrows in shock. That hadn’t been what he was expecting.

“Hello to you, too, Lydia.” Stiles muttered, still sitting contemplatively on the chair/bed.

“Answer the question.” Lydia said sternly, hands on her hips with a furious expression. “Before I ask a less pleasant one.”

“Like what?” Stiles challenged.

“Like ‘where were you last night?’”

“Where were _you_?” Stiles retorted.

“Researching.” Lydia explained simply. “I know what Parrish is. And I’ll tell you if you answer my question.”

_That_ made Stiles think twice. Lydia knew what Parrish was? When Stiles himself had been at a loss for months? Stiles stood up, making him level with Lydia, and he walked forward and leaned against the bars towards her, so he could speak quietly.

“What makes you think I ‘let myself’ do anything?” he asked softly.

He heard rather than saw Lydia roll her eyes. “Please.” she said. “Scott was bedridden and you had backup. Parrish was alone and you could have easily overpowered him. You let yourself get taken.”

“You’re wrong.” Stiles said.

Lydia gave him a look.

“Alright.” Stiles relented. “Maybe I knew when we went to Scott’s that it might be a trap. So I slipped Kevin my car keys. And yeah, maybe I could have overpowered Parrish and ran away. But then what? I would have been a fugitive.”

“So?” Lydia asked. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve bent the rules.”

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly part of that ‘we’ anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.” Stiles murmured, hating that it was the only thing in this conversation that was true.

“Bull.” Lydia said quietly. “I know what you did was in self defense. I know you didn’t manipulate Liam. Scott’s an idiot. I’m on your side.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Stiles warned. “Cause I’m losing.”

Lydia scoffed. “You see? You would have been better off hiding until your name was cleared rather than sitting in a jail cell like-” Lydia stopped suddenly, her mouth opening in a perfect ‘o’ as realization hit her. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Stiles prompted, but he already knew she had figured it out.

“You didn’t let yourself get arrested.” Lydia breathed. “You let yourself be used as bait.”

“I didn’t.” Stiles said solemnly.

_He did._

“You’re lying.” Lydia said. She squinted at him, cocking her head to the side. “You know who it is.” she murmured. “Who trapped Scott in the library and poisoned his inhaler. And you can’t tell me, because then I’ll be in danger. You not only knew you were walking into a trap, you prepared for it. You’re staying one step ahead, like you always do.”

_Scott’s inhaler was poisoned? No wonder he was so weak. Theo thought this plan all the way through._

“I _tried_ to stay one step ahead.” Stiles corrected. “I failed.”

_Kevin hadn’t noticed him slip away to make a phone call while he was choosing his weapon._

“You’re waiting for them to come to you.” Lydia finished. “Which they will, because it looks like you’ve lost. I would certainly think you had, if I didn’t know you so well.”

“I can’t say if you’re right.” Stiles said, putting heavy weight behind his words. “Theorize a little harder, Lydia. You’ll get there eventually.”

“Oh, I will.” Lydia promised. And then she was gone before Stiles could blink twice.

 

Kevin stared after Lydia much in a similar way that he stared after Stiles and Parrish. Except here, he looked a little more awed.

“Wow, she’s...” he trailed off, as if unable to describe her in words.

“Yeah.” Scott said knowingly.

“I can see why Stiles still likes her.”

“Well, that is why we broke up.” Another voice said from the stairwell, and Kevin was met with a beautiful girl with short brown hair that he assumed to be Malia. She looked at him from head to toe before turning to Scott. “Among other things.”

“Malia.” Scott greeted. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, the chimera from last night didn’t do too much damage.” Malia said with a flick of her wrist. “Braeden, however, is still in town, and that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, if you’re up for it.”

Scott shot Kevin a thoughtful look. “Kevin, why don’t you wait downstairs?” Scott asked. “I still want to talk to you about some things.”

“Alright.” Kevin said uneasily, before awkwardly moving past Malia and out the door and through the hall. He shut the door behind him, but not before catching a few hushed words from Malia, that sounded like ‘someone else here.’ But he couldn’t be sure.

 

Stiles wasn’t expecting Malia, but one hour after Lydia left, here she was, staring him down in a way that made him shift uncomfortably.

“I talked to Scott.” she said suddenly.

“Oh?” Stiles asked, straightening.

“He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

Stiles stared at her for a second, studying the way she was fidgeting slightly from foot to foot. Malia never fidgeted, ever. Her carefully honed instincts prevented her from making any unnecessary movements that could generate noise, and while she was constantly on alert, she hid it well.

“Then why do you look worried about something?” he asked.

For half a second, she looked stricken in panic.

“I’m leaving town!” she blurted. “Scott gave me the okay to go with Braeden to look for the Desert Wolf. She helped me last night fight off a chimera.”

“Okay....” Stiles said slowly, processing the information. “But that’s great! You’ve been looking for your mom for months!”

“How do you know that?” she asked. “I was keeping that from everyone, especially Scott.”

“How do you know about Donovan?” Stiles asked, careful to not accidentally confess, because, hello, he was in a jail cell. “I’m observant. Which is why I can tell you aren’t upset about leaving town. So what is it?”

Malia fidgeted again, looking over her shoulder at the busy deputies with worry. “I knew about Donovan because I saw your shoulder.” she said, “even if I’m not sure Scott has the right facts about last night. I trust that what you did was in self defense. I was a little surprised when you told me you were a hunter, but that was ages ago. If I can get over it, Scott should. But- um- your friend Kevin...”

“You went to Scott’s after Lydia. He was still there?” Stiles asked incredulously.

Malia nodded. “I ran into Lydia outside Scott’s house, she told me you were in jail, and yeah, Scott wanted to ask him some questions.”

Stiles slumped against the prison wall. “Crap.”

“I don’t think he got around to it.” Malia said, cringing at some memory and subconsciously rubbing her wrist.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, almost afraid to know. “Is everyone okay?”

Malia shot him a stern look. “You have some interesting friends, Stiles.”

_Kevin shut the door, and Malia stepped towards Scott. But then she froze, sniffing the air._

_“There’s someone else here.” she told Scott._

_“Stiles was here.” Scott replied, and a guilty look flashed across his face._

_“Where is he now?” Malia asked. She hadn’t quite believed Lydia when the latter had pulled her aside and said ‘Stiles is in police custody’ before sauntering off._

_Scott said nothing, merely scowled at his bedspread._

_“Oh-kay” Malia said, beginning to pace slowly around the room. “Sensitive subject. I already texted you that Braeden and I fought off a chimera. What the hell happened to you last night.?”_

_“Liam attacked me.” Scott said stiffly. “Hayden was dying and he was convinced he could save her. Mason’s with him now, helping him with the guilt and grief.”_

_“You sure you shouldn’t talk to him?” Malia asked. “I’m not an expert on these types of things but he did try to kill you. Not Mason.”_

_“I will.” Scott said quickly, like it was an unpleasant task to look forward to. “Once I heal completely. Liam’s claws cut pretty deep, and I’m not at full strength. I won’t be until the wolfsbane is out of my system.”_

_“Wolfsbane?” Malia said alarmingly, plopping down on Scott’s bed._

_Scott nodded. “Yeah. And mountain ash locked me in the library.”_

_“Who could have done that?” Malia asked with an angry expression._

_“Um... that’s the thing.” Scott said uneasily. “I think it might be Stiles. Theo and my mom seem to agree, though my mom thinks he also might have done more.”_

_Malia scoffed. “What does Lydia think?” she asked._

_Scott scowled. “She’s not sure, she thinks we should get the whole story.”_

_Malia crossed her arms. “And I agree.”_

_Scott looked stricken. “There’s something else you need to know, too, about one of the missing chimeras.”_

_“You mean Donovan?” Malia asked, ignoring Scott’s look of surprise. “I know Stiles killed him. The fact that he flinched every time we said his name was obvious. I think we should get the whole story there, too.”_

_“Malia...” Scott said sympathetically. “You haven’t been doing this as long as I have. You haven’t seen some of the things Stiles has done.”_

_“I don’t care.” Malia said sternly._

_Scott sighed. “Fine. Then is there something you can help me with? Can you get Stiles’ friend to come back up here? Then when he does I need you to make sure he stays put. There’s something I don’t trust about him.”_

_Malia rolled her eyes but complied, and once he heard her talking to Kevin downstairs, Scott sent another quick text._

‘I’ve got him. You can come up now.’

_Because earlier, he hadn’t been just texting Parrish. He had also been texting Theo._

_Theo, who had shown up just as Stiles was being shoved in the cop car, and he had watched the whole scene with a smile on his face. It had been his idea, after all, to lay a trap for Stiles in case he tried to hurt Scott again._

_Malia and Kevin walked back into Scott’s room, only to find the addition of Theo leaning against the wall. Malia was slightly startled, but Kevin balked and let out a startled squawk, before pulling himself together._

_“Uh, what can I help you with?” Kevin asked Scott, hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere in the room but at Theo._

Well that isn’t suspicious at all, _Scott thought._

_“Is this him?” Scott asked Theo, with a small nod towards Kevin._

_Theo shot Kevin an angry glare, which Kevin seemed to cower over._

_“Yeah.” he said. “That’s the hunter who kidnapped me.”_

_Malia looked at Kevin in shock._

_“Well, this has been fun...” Kevin said with a bit of a squeaky voice, “but I really think I have to go now.” He turned to the door to Scott’s room but Malia blocked him, standing in front of the door with her arms crossed. He reeled back in alarm, taking a couple cautious steps away from her, before swiveling to face Scott and Theo. “Look guys...” he said, but that was all he had time for before Theo unsheathed his claws and his eyes glowed menacingly yellow. Kevin took one look at him and yelped, then gulped, then took a shuddering breath as if steeling himself to do something._

_“Why don’t you tell us what happened, Kevin?” Scott said calmly, “And how you really know Stiles. And maybe this doesn’t have to get ugly.”_

_Malia also unsheathed her claws and her eyes glowed bright blue._

_Kevin took another deep breath. “You know, I’d love to, but they aren’t my secrets to tell.” Scott looked confused, but Kevin didn’t see that. Instead, he was glaring daggers at Theo. “And things got ugly here the moment pretty-boy walked in.”_

_Suddenly, Kevin’s hands were out of his pockets, one clenched in a fist, the other holding his orange-and-green water pistol. Without taking his eyes off of Theo, he aimed the water pistol at Malia and shot several streams of water at her before either could react. The water hit Malia on her wrists and arms, and she whimpered in shock as the impacted skin began to burn. Theo lunged at Kevin with his claws but he ducked, shooting water at Theo’s face, which caused him to yell in pain and run into Malia with temporary blindness. The two slammed against the door with a large_ thud! _and collapsed to the floor in a tangle._

_Scott roared at Kevin and lept out of his bed, ignoring his injury as he tackled Kevin to the floor. He stood up, a foot on Kevin’s left arm to prevent him from using the water pistol. Kevin groaned, winded from the tackle, and Scott glowered at him while Theo and Malia lept to their feet. But then Kevin curled to his side, the hand that was in a fist swiping rapidly over Scott’s exposed ankle, leaving an angry red cut that sizzled. Scott hissed in pain, and the pressure on Kevin’s arm loosened enough for him to free it, and then he scrambled backwards in a crabwalk until he hit a wall. Theo looked smug, the three closing in on him, but then Kevin stood up swiftly, twirling the previously hidden knife, and aimed the water pistol again, hitting Theo’s eye, Malia’s neck, and Scott’s chest before turning around towards the open window Theo had climbed through not minutes earlier. Malia rushed forwards again, but before she could get to him, Kevin leapt gracefully out of the window, and Mailia, Theo, and Scott watched with open mouths, skin still sizzling. Seconds later, they heard a thud of running footsteps and then the unmistakable noise of Stiles’ jeep starting and peeling out of the driveway._

Malia gave Stiles a pointed look upon finishing the story.

Stiles blinked very rapidly as he sifted through the information she told him. He couldn’t help being proud of Kevin, but he hid his joy as he looked at Malia’s annoyed expression.

“Your friend shot us with a wolfsbane-filled water pistol and cut Scott with a knife that I assume to be yours. Why would that be, Stiles?”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess I don’t know the guy as much as I thought I did.” _I know him better._

“It doesn’t bother you that he allegedly kidnapped Theo?” Malia asked shrewdly.

“He must have thought he had his reasons.” _It bothers me that Theo arranged his capture. And mine. What new plan does he have now?_

“Well do you know where he could have gone? He took your car, Stiles. Maybe you can register it as stolen and we could use it to find him.”

“I highly doubt that would work.” Stiles said. “Kevin’s much too smart to fall for that. He’ll probably be in another state with a different car by tonight.”

“No, I think we could catch him.” Malia said with a stubborn glint. “If you wanted us to. But I don’t think you do because you gave him the keys to your jeep. Kevin made that escape much too fast to be able to hotwire a car.”

“You’re right.” Stiles said simply. “And you clearly know that I’m not telling you everything. But I can tell you that Beacon Hills got that much more dangerous overnight, and I think hunting down the desert wolf might, crazy as it sounds, be safer than staying here.”

“You’re telling me to run away.” Malia said with a growl. “Stiles, I can look after myself, and I’m not a coward. I want to help.”

“I know you do.” Stiles assured. “And I know you can. But I want you to be able to find your mother, and not get stuck here the way I am. But in the end, it is entirely your call.”

Malia looked conflicted, and Stiles was glad that she seemed to be considering his advice rather than brushing it aside.

“I’ll think about it.” she said at last. “But I know something isn’t right with our situation, you didn’t have to say it. So maybe I didn’t get a good lock on Kevin’s scent. Maybe I can’t track him.”

“Thank you.” Stiles whispered. “Malia, I mean it. Thank you for trusting me.”

Malia backed up, intending to leave. “Be careful, Stiles.” she said. “ _I_ mean it. If you don’t hear from me, don’t follow. Also, I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Did Scott tell you?” Stiles asked, wincing as he thought about the fact that he couldn’t even see his dad, not while rotting in a jail cell.

“No. I was looking for you this morning, and I found you outside his waiting room. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with Kevin, so I left. But Stiles? You aren’t as screwed as you think. You taught me how to play chess, remember? Consider me a pawn that’s made it to the end of the board.”

_What?_

“What?” Stiles asked.

Malia grinned. “Werecoyote hearing, remember? Theo trusts me. He thinks I’m on the outs with you. I may be leaving town, but under no circumstances have I abandoned you. I’m a queen, yeah, but I’m your queen. And we’re going to take the S.O.B. down.”

Malia winked at her ex boyfriend before sauntering out the door, leaving Stiles dumbstruck and alone in a cell wondering when everybody started outsmarting him.


	8. High Noon

Ch. 8

High Noon

It was 11:30 when Malia left, and it was 11:32 when Stiles had another visitor. He should have known, really, after all the whole point of being arrested was to draw him out, but it was one thing to concoct a plan and a whole other to see it come to fruition.

After Malia left, Stiles closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, chastising his scrambling thoughts to keep still while he wondered what had come of Kevin. When he opened them, Theo was directly in front of him, leaning menacingly towards him on the bars of the cell with a snarl on his face.

Stiles jumped backwards, his head slamming roughly into the concrete wall behind him. “Jeez!” he exclaimed in surprise and pain, his hand falling to the back of his throbbing head. “Don’t _do_ that! I swear to god, I had to put up with Peter and Derek and now _you_...” he trailed off, watching Theo for any type of reaction. There was no smirk at Stiles’ childish reaction, no gloat at Stiles’ pain, if anything, his scowl deepened, his glare grew more menacing, and his hands wrapped tighter around the metal cell bars like he was trying very hard to resist shredding Stiles into a million pieces.

Stiles couldn’t help himself.

“What’s your problem?” he asked offhandedly, then migrated from the uncomfortable wooden bench to the slightly more uncomfortable floor, picking absentmindedly at the uneven concrete.

As expected, Theo’s eyes narrowed into furious slits, and he looked positively ready to rip Stiles’ cell wall off of it’s hinges.

“My _problem_...” he said with extreme difficulty through harshly gritted teeth, “is that your _sidekick_ blinded me.” the thought of Kevin made Theo’s brow furrow, and his nickname for him dripped with contempt.

“Temporarily.” Stiles chided. “He temporarily blinded you. And hey, maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kidnap him!” He was poking the monster, something he was (relatively) wary about, but at the moment, he didn’t really care. Stiles didn’t look it, but he was a little strung out at the moment.

It was 11:36, and she still wasn’t here.

It was 11:36, and he was totally lost.

Kevin raced down an empty road, windows rolled down as he soaked up what might be his last precious moments of freedom. After peeling out of Scott’s driveway, he had floored it, trying to retrace the route from Scott’s house to the treatment plant, failing miserably, and had finally settled on putting as much distance between himself and the werewolves as possible. Where had he learned to fight three werewolves and jump out of a two story window to escape, you might ask? Let’s just say the Winchesters were paranoid, and sometimes that paranoia pays off.

Kevin mentally took inventory while he breezed by sunlit tree after sunlit tree in the late morning suburbia. On him he had Stiles’ knife, which he needed to return somehow, a water pistol full of wolfsbane, which was really cool but almost out of juice, and his cell phone, also out of juice. These weren’t exactly the tools to take on the world, and unless Kevin wanted to end up as dead as his phone, he needed to find the treatment plant now.

It was interesting, though, what had happened. Theo had set up both Stiles and Kevin, that was certain, but why not pin his kidnapping on the both of them, especially since that was what had actually happened?

_Well, Stiles did the kidnapping. I... aided and abetted._

But even though Kevin had gotten away, he was probably in worse shape than if he had been caught. He had injured three wolves in Scott’s pack, one of them being Scott himself, and they would all almost certainly be out for his blood, instead of investigating the mole right under their hypersensitive noses. And by running away, he wasn’t exactly doing Stiles any favors. Who would listen to Stiles now, now that his friend was their enemy.

_Damn, Theo thought this through. His only mistake was underestimating me. And let’s be real for a second. I’m surprised I made it out of there alive. Jumping out a window? 0 stars. Would not repeat._

Now, though, Kevin could feel the adrenaline wearing off, and his body began to ache from the impact of hitting the ground on a roll. He needed sanctuary. Fast.

It was 11:38, and he was lost and weaker than ever.

It was 11:38, and he was trapped but certainly not helpless. Yet.

_She said she’d come, she said she’d come._ Stiles chanted in his head as Theo scowled.

“Well, fair’s fair, right?” Theo said haughtily. “Kevin kidnapped me, so I tried to return the favor.”

“Yeah, except Kevin didn’t kidnap you!” Stiles exclaimed. “It was really more of a joint effort than anything! What were you thinking, huh? That he’d be easy prey to get to me?” A shift in Theo’s stance told Stiles that that had been exactly what he had been thinking. Stiles let out a humorous laugh. “Looks can be deceiving, my friend. Kevin’s scrawny, yeah, but he can destroy your life in three key strokes and a maniacal laugh. The guy’s withstood torture that would make federal interrogators wince.”

“And who are you, Stiles?” Theo said with a sneer. “If Kevin’s as great as you say he is, then you’re just hiding. You’re a coward, and you’re cowering behind him and behind Scott.”

Stiles smiled, but there was no mirth, only pure enjoyment. “It doesn’t matter.” he said gleefully. “You’ve wasted your move and it’s my turn now. I may be locked away but by no means are my hands tied.”

Theo faltered. “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s 11:45, and in 15 minutes, I’m going to leave here a free man.”

It was 11:45, and finally, _finally_ , Kevin turned on a gravel road that looked familiar. He was about to drive forward when a terrible thought struck him. He could be being followed, he could be leading someone right to the treatment plant.

But that was impossible. Kevin had been checking his rearview mirror practically constantly. There hadn’t been anyone behind him at all. And why would there be? It was almost noon on a weekday. Parents would be at work and everyone except the high schoolers would be in school. But Kevin still got a chill at the thought of going immediately to the safehouse after surviving an attack with three were-somethings. (Well, one chimera.) No matter the fact that he had gotten impossibly lost and had taken possibly the least direct route possible.

In a split second decision, Kevin peeled out of the gravel road and, aware of his bearings now, raced down several streets before arriving at the last place he expected to be and the first place anyone would look for him.

Stiles’ house.

He knew it would be empty, what with one Stilinski unconscious and the other arrested, but Kevin didn’t expect to walk up to the front door of the dark house and turn the handle to find it unlocked. Which is why he walked up to the front door, turned the handle, and of course found the door perfectly locked. It was the sheriff’s house, after all. So, Kevin, flustered, fumbled for Stiles’ keys, turning several over in his hands before finding one that looked like it could be a house key. He put it in the lock, turned it, and when the heard the telltale _click!,_ Kevin nearly collapsed in relief. The door stuck a little, probably from moisture left by the cooling temperatures, so it was a whole other minute before Kevin stumbled into the unlit foyer of Stiles’ house. He closed the door and looked around quickly, gauging his surroundings. He could see a small kitchen that contained several unfolded newspapers, a staircase-

-and that was all he could make out before someone picked him up by the scruff of his t-shirt and slammed him into the door.

“OW!” Kevin exclaimed loudly as his back, neck, and head throbbed painfully, and as he tried to think quickly he realized that his breathing was being restricted by a leather-clad arm held strategically across his neck, and another hand held his left shoulder into the door. Kevin opened his eyes to find very angry glowing blue ones staring into his.

Kevin gulped, or tried to, what with the arm cutting into his throat. “Um, hi.” he rasped conversationally, albeit with some difficulty. He wasn’t scared. Some supernatural had him in a compromising position and looked 0.25 seconds away from tearing out his throat? Nah.

Well, if his voice shook, no one needed to know.

“Who are you?” Leather guy said with a heavy growl, and Kevin wanted to laugh because this guy practically radiated _werewolf._ Not to mention his eyes were still glowing and the hand on his shoulder had claws, if the stinging pain was anything to go by. They really needed to learn to hide themselves better.

“Who are _you_?” Kevin countered, his voice squeaking a little. He looked his attacker up and down, taking in again the sharp chin, black hair, glowing blue eyes, leather jacket, and jeans. “No, wait, let me guess. Derek Hale, right? Werewolf, last of the Hale pack, ex-alpha, four betas, two deceased, two estranged. Surviving relatives include Peter Hale, institutionalized, and Cora Hale, residing in Venezuela. Known associates include Braeden Tandy, bounty hunter and ex U.S. Marshall; Scott McCall, your alpha; Isaac Lahey, former beta; Jackson Whittemore, former beta; and Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani, Ethan Carver, Jennifer Blake, Melissa McCall, and Sheriff and Stiles Stilinski, which, I assume, is why you’re in their house.”

Did Kevin mention he tends to ramble when he’s nervous? No? That’s because he wasn’t rambling. He recited the entire profile Stiles gave him with a cold and calculating voice, hoping to catch Derek off guard with the wealth of information. And it worked. Derek’s eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled backwards, his grip on Kevin lost. Kevin dropped to the floor and leveled Derek’s glare with one of his own. The two stood like that for a moment, fists clenched, eyes on fire. Finally, Derek’s demeanor dropped, and Kevin mentally high-fived himself while simultaneously screaming internally.

“Where is he?” Derek barked. “He said it was urgent.”

“You’re not a wolf of many words, are you?” Kevin mused. “No ‘hi Kevin, how was your day?’ No, it’s straight to Stiles.”

“If you know that much about me,” Derek said, less growley and more impatiently, “then you know about Beacon Hills, and you would understand why I’m not in the mood to mess around.”

Kevin sighed. “I’m Kevin Tran.” he said simply. “For now, let’s call me a friend of Stiles Stilinski’s.”

“A friend, huh?” Derek asked incredulously. “Who Stiles has never mentioned, who somehow knows about werewolves without being one himself? Pardon me if I don’t believe you.”

Kevin smiled. Stiles’ friends weren’t idiots all the time. He could respect that. “You got me.” he said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “I don’t know any Stilinskis. But maybe the name Winchester rings a bell.”

Kevin wasn’t sure, but Derek’s scowl seemed to soften slightly, but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Derek glanced at his watch. “It’s 11:52.” he said. “You have until noon to explain to me what the hell is going on. Start talking.”

 

“Eight minutes.” Theo taunted, he and Stiles having spent the past seven thinking furiously. “Do you really think you can get away with murder in eight minutes?”

“Well sure.” Stiles replied languidly. “You’ve done it. How long did it take you to convince Scott that Josh’s death was an accident? Seconds? Or are we counting the months of manipulation that led up to it?”

Theo faltered at the juxtaposition of Stiles’ bitter tone and winning smile.

“Stiles, if I didn’t know any better I would say that you’re jealous.” he sneered. “But I do know better. Because if Scott knew what you really were, then Malia and I would have been attacking _you_ , not your cheap sidekick.”

“My ‘cheap sidekick’ who took on a werewolf, a werecoyote, and a chimera in about thirty seconds with nothing but a knife and a water pistol.” Stiles reiterated with a smirk. “How does that make sense? Actually, why are you talking to me, when you need to find him? Maybe it’s because Scott feels guilty about attacking him. But that’s not it. You’ve corrupted Scott to the point where his moral compass is almost as broken as mine. Maybe it’s because you know he’s too good, that finding him will be impossible. Or maybe it’s because you’re hoping I’ll slip up and tell you where he is. Which isn’t happening.” Stiles said with a humorless chuckle.

Inside, his thoughts were along a much different track.

_Theo still thinks the pack are in the dark about my heritage. That’s good. That’s probably the only advantage I have over him. But he has Scott. He has Scott controlled more than I thought he would. Because never in a million years would Scott order two supernaturals to attack a human, hunter or not. But what if Theo had accused me of kidnapping him? Would I have to fight of my ex girlfriend and my best friend? Would I have to jump out the window of the house I practically grew up in?_

Then, one thought made Stiles’ entire ADD-rattled brain halt.

_Would Scott kill me?_

If Theo won, would Scott order the pack to trap him, hurt him, possibly kill him? Or would he hunt down Stiles and do it himself? Would Stiles become yet another faceless hunter? Would Scott’s eyes turn blue?

“Maybe it’s because Scott’s tracking down Kevin and he told me to keep an eye on you.” Theo said, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts.

Stiles hadn’t even considered that, and he couldn’t tell whether Theo was lying or not.

It was 11:55, and Derek was looking at Kevin with wide eyes, while the latter was conversing at a mile a minute.

It was 11:56, and Theo looked confident as ever.

It was 11:57, and Scott McCall stared at some tire tracks on a gravel road, that definitely looked like Stiles’ jeep. _They’ve been down this road before, if the overlapping tracks are any indication. But the most recent time, they pulled in, then turned around._ Should he follow the car or follow the road?

It was 11:58, and Kevin and Derek whirled to the knock on the Stilinski’s door.

It was 11:59, and Stiles spoke.

“You know,” Stiles said, standing up -he was taller than Theo- and looking his enemy dead in the eye, “did I ever tell you the story about the hunter who traveled back in time to the wild west and killed a phoenix at high noon?”

Theo cocked his head to the side, his eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Go on.” he goaded.

“It was a standoff.” Stiles said. “Between the avenging angel, and the fiery demon. Both were anxious, fingers twitching and reaching tentatively for the guns strapped at their hips, waiting for the clock at the center of town to chime. Does that look at all familiar?” Stiles gestured to Theo and himself. “The phoenix was confident he could not die, the hunter knew he could not lose. And so we had two men, glaring at each other across a long, old, dusty road. It was anyone’s game. The stakes were high, impossibly high. And then the clock struck twelve.”

As if on cue, the local church’s clock began to chime.

_Ding!_

“Both of these men had their limits.” Stiles continued, unsettlingly undeterred by the chiming clock.

_Ding!_

“One was bound by iron, the other was bound by time.”

_Ding!_

“But which one was which, Theo? Who was the angel, and who was the demon?”

_Ding!_

“Who was bound in iron? Was it the phoenix with his physical weakness, or the hunter with his dependency on weapons?”

_Ding!_

“Who was bound in time? Was it the phoenix with his dwindling immortality, or the man out of time, who needed to return to the future?”

_Ding!_

“The answer may surprise you.”

_Ding!_

“The hunter shot first, before the phoenix could even think to pull the trigger. But really, they both lost. Because while the phoenix burst into flames and his ashes were gathered, the hunter returned to a broken reality he’s still mending.”

_Ding!_

“Because, you see, the hunter had a secret weapon up his sleeve, or rather, strapped to his side. A gun, an impossible gun, centuries and days old, that was rumored to be able to kill everything. Even demons.”

_Ding!_

Theo blinked in alarm, because he knew this gun. Stiles had pointed it at him.

_Ding!_

“Even demons.” Stiles repeated. “But I never got to the part about Alexander, did I? The demon I killed? With the gun my brother brought back from the wild west?”

_Ding!_

“You need to understand what an old friend once told him. Time is fluid. It takes massive power, but it can be bended on occasion.”

_Ding!_

“This isn’t one such occasion. It’s high noon, Theo. Make your move. I’ve made mine.”

Theo, shellshocked, turned his head slowly to the police station, as the double doors slowly creaked open. Heavy boots clunked loudly on the linoleum floor with each and every step, as everyone watched the lone figure make their way to the center of the room. Khaki pants and a brown shirt stood in stark contrast to the shiny yellow badge.

She stood with her hands on her hips, one hovering near her holster, chin tilted upwards as she surveyed the room with beady, intelligent eyes.

Eyes that had seen the dead rise.

“Well howdy, everyone!” she said with a thundering voice, and even if Stiles, Theo, and all the officers weren’t already captivated, they were drawn in by her sheer aura of command and control.

“The name’s Jody Mills.” she continued, tucking her chin-length brown hair behind her ear. “Sheriff Jody Mills of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Could anyone tell me where I might find Stiles Stilinski?”

Slowly, heads swiveled to the back of the station, where Stiles stood, hands wrapped around two of the bars of his cage, as he greeted Jody with a small smile and a hearty laugh.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills, Sheriff. And may I say your timing is _perfect_.”


	9. Obstruction of Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading. I'd just like to offer a disclaimer that I am not a lawyer or in law enforcement so I have no idea if this stuff is accurate. Also, I wrote this chapter in September of 2015, so that's why the dates are off. Anyway, enjoy!

Ch. 9

Obstruction of Justice

The knock at the door startled Kevin and Derek from their conversation on just how Kevin had been able to jump out of a window with minimal bruising.

“Who is it?” Kevin asked furtively, glancing back and forth from Derek to the door so quickly it was headache inducing. “Theo? Scott? Malia?”

Derek frowned. “You said Stiles called other people when he found out Theo was working with the Doctors.” he muttered. “Why did he call _him_?” In quick strides, Derek marched over to the door and threw it open to reveal a very sheepish looking Jackson Whittemore.

“Derek!” Jackson exclaimed, his hands leaping out of the pockets of his gray hoodie. “I wasn’t expecting you. Where’s Stilinski? He said to meet him here.”

“Join the club.” Derek said, gesturing for Jackson to come in, which he did reluctantly. “Our guest of honor appears to be running a little late.”

Jackson’s head pivoted to face every corner of the Stilinski home upon entering it slowly, probably canvassing it with his advanced senses. Then he saw Kevin and his eyes narrowed in on the other boy suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he asked with a pretentious tone.

“Some guy who’s sick of hearing that question.” Kevin said. “Maybe I should just get a name tag. Kevin Tran, human, friend of Stiles, and also the guy who went through all that trouble to dig up your phone numbers. I mean, really, some politeness would be nice...”

Derek cleared his throat, effectively cutting off Kevin’s rant.

“Kevin was just informing me on what we’ve missed.” Derek said, “since I’ve been out of town, too. You, Jackson, you might need some more catching up than that. Kevin, you want to help me enlighten him?”

Kevin smiled in a way that made Jackson fear for his life.

“Why, I’d be happy to!”

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sheriff Mills.” Parrish said eagerly with a hearty handshake once the commotion Jody had caused had settled down. “I’m deputy Parrish, I understand you know Sheriff Stilinski well?”

“Oh. John and I go way back!” Jody proclaimed loudly while Parrish led her into the sheriff’s office. “We met at a sheriff’s convention, and then we discovered we had a mutual friend named Bobby Singer.”

“I’ve heard of him.” Parrish said with a weak smile. “I’m told he passed away shortly after I arrived in Beacon Hills.”

“Yeah, well.” Jody said with a shrug. “His line of work was tough.”

“He was an auto salesman, wasn’t he?” Parrish asked incredulously, shutting the door and gesturing for Jody to sit down. Instead, she leaned against John’s desk, and Parrish stood in front of her, arms crossed.

“Sheriff Mills-”

“Please, call me Jody.”

“Jody, then.” Parrish amended, his politeness beginning to waver under the weight of stress he was feeling. “I just wanted to inquire in private about the nature of this visit.”

Jody smiled mischievously. “What, a woman can’t drop in on her old friend and his son from time to time?”

“Not when the old friend has been unconscious in the ICU for approximately fourteen hours and his son is in police custody on a murder charge.” Parrish replied sternly.

Jody didn’t look surprised at the information. On the contrary, she let out a small chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.” she said conspiratorially.

Parrish bristled. “Sheriff Mills, the Stilinskis are good friends of mine as well, and I hate to see the trouble that’s befallen them, but with all due respect, I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Beacon Hills is a little out of your jurisdiction.”

Now Jody laughed, harshly. “That’s rich,” she said with a cold smile, “coming from the guy who arrested him in the first place.”

Parrish stiffened, freezing his sudden wave of panic. “How do you know that?” he demanded. “The report isn’t even written yet.”

Jody didn’t respond, she merely kept smiling while simultaneously giving him a harsh glare, as if demanding he elaborate.

A couple seconds of heavy silence went by, and Parrish relented. He relaxed his tense stance minutely. “I was only following orders.” he said gruffly, not meeting Jody’s eyes.

“Oh really?” Jody challenged. “Whose?”

Parrish swallowed his pride and looked at her again, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said it yourself.” Jody said, with a triumphant gleam in her eyes that made Parrish want to run and hide. “The sheriff is unconscious. In order to arrest young Mr. Stilinski over there, you would have needed a warrant for a judge, and the sheriff’s approval to ask for that warrant. Well, here’s the warrant right here.” Jody said, pointing to a sheet of paper on her desk. Before Parrish could react, she had snatched it up and begun to read. “Here’s the judge’s statement, here’s the murder charge, here’s the evidence- an eyewitness statement by one Theo Raeken- here’s today’s date, September, 2015, my, this office sure moves things along fast. And, oh look.” Jody’s eyes traveled to the bottom of the page, and her eyes positively alighted in ingenuity. “A signature from the judge- and the sheriff of Beacon County.”

She looked up from the warrant, and her eyes bore into Parrish’s victoriously. “You know, every sheriff’s office has their own protocol for emergencies, you have heard of Sioux Falls’ zombie apocalypse hoax a few years back.” Something akin to grief flashed briefly across her face. “Well Sheriff Stilinski, here, had a very strange protocol in place. If he was unconscious and unresponsive for a certain amount of time, another officer would take over his duties until he regained consciousness or the position was up for re-election.”

“Yes.” Parrish confirmed. “And?”

“And,” Jody continued with her unsettling smile, “not many people know outside of this station that that new sheriff is you.”

Parrish said nothing, only kept his face perfectly expressionless.

“‘On this day in the month of September, 2015,’” Jody quoted from the warrant. “The aforementioned Judge of the district and Sheriff of Beacon County consent to the arrest of M. Stilinski. Signed Judge Eric Davis and Sheriff Jordan Parrish.’”

Parrish shifted from foot-to-foot uncomfortably.

“What’s interesting,” Jody continued, “was the specificity of the former Sheriff’s request. Particularly, that he be unconscious and unresponsive for twelve hours before the deputy would take over. His lawyer was very clear on that.”

“Perhaps I should talk to him.” Parrish said through gritted teeth.

“Perhaps you should.” Jody agreed. “Because if I recall correctly, Stiles was arrested at approximately 9:35 this morning. And the sheriff wasn’t declared unresponsive until midnight.” Jody squinted at the small clock nailed to the wall. “So, while the sheriff has been hospitalized for approximately 14 hours, you only became Sheriff right about when I walked through this door.”

“At 9:35 this morning,” Jody continued, no longer smiling, her mouth coiled like a serpent about to strike, “You arrested Stiles Stilinski with a warrant you had no authority to sign. That makes the arrest void. And while there’s nothing stopping you from calling Judge Davis and issuing another warrant, there’s also nothing stopping me from walking out of this station with Stiles as a free man.”

Parrish took a deep breath before speaking. “What is your point, Sheriff Mills?”

“My point, Sheriff Parrish,” Jody said, with mockery behind his new title, “Is that you said you were following orders, but that’s not true. Unless you were referring to the orders of your alpha, Scott McCall.”

Parrish flinched in alarm, his face showing brief shock before he composed it.

“I’m not quite sure I like what you’re implying, Jody.”

“I’m not implying anything.” Jody said vindictively. “I know you know about what’s really going on here. And I probably know more than you.”

“Then you understand why we’re keeping Stiles here.” Parrish said through gritted teeth. “Illegally obtained warrant or not, it’s safer for everyone.”

“Says who?” Jody challenged. “A seventeen year old werewolf?”

“An alpha.” Parrish corrected. “Who knows what’s best for this town. I don’t know how you know all about this-” he gestured widely around himself to indicate the insanity that is Beacon Hills, “but I think this is a little out of your league. We have kids left and right being turned into chimeras. And Stiles killed one of them. You probably don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

Jody sighed. “Listen, Jordan, I’m still relatively new to the supernatural, but chimeras or not, I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. And even as a sheriff I’ve had to bend the rules, because I know I should leave the fighting to the professionals. That boy you have stuck in jail? His brothers saved my life when it was too late to save my son’s. I know his kind well enough. As for being a little out of my league, try running a town in amidst an apocalypse. That zombie hoax a few years ago? It wasn’t a hoax. But you would know that if you had stuck around.”

Parrish paled as Jody gave him a withering glare.

“That’s right, Jordan, I recognize you. You can stop pretending we don’t know each other. You were only at my office for about a year before you picked up and left. Funny, you never mentioned where you were going. And I bet you never told Stilinski where you were from.”

“It never came up.” Parrish said with a lame shrug.

“Well, here’s what’s going to happen.” Jody said sternly. “You’re going to give me the keys to Stiles’ cell. I’m going to walk out of this station with him. And if you never want to see me again, you won’’t apply for another warrant until Stiles has had a proper chance to explain himself.”

“And if I refuse?” Parrish asked, crossing his arms aggressively.

Jody smiled smally. “Then I arrest you for obstruction of justice. You went around your superior’s back when he was still your superior, and the fact that you know he had been hospitalized since 10 o’clock last night even though you wouldn’t have been notified until the change of power at midnight is shifty, not to mention you taking orders from a boy. Now, how’s that going to look when John wakes up? It’s your choice, Sheriff.”

It really wasn’t a choice. Slowly, Parrish took a few calculation steps away from Jody, until he was no longer blocking the door. He held out her keys for him to take, which she did, sauntering past him and out the door.

 

“So let me get this straight.” Jackson said frustratedly, pacing back and forth furiously in the Stilinski living room while Kevin and Derek looked on with mild amusement. “I leave town for a year and a half and things literally go to hell! A WHOLE PACK of alphas wreaks havoc and kills Erica and Boyd; Stiles, Scott, and Allison DIE to save their parents, Lydia is a BANSHEE who dated yet another dangerous werewolf, McCall is an ALPHA, Stiles gets POSSESSED by an evil FOX, he KILLS Allison, Danny runs of with Lydia’s boyfriend’s twin brother, A HIT LIST comes out with everyone’s name on it, KATE FREAKING ARGENT COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD, Peter goes psycho again, and now a bunch of supernatural wannabes are turing high schoolers into freaks and then killing them!? Oh, and Theo’s back, and he’s evil, which by the way is not a surprise, he was a total dick in fourth grade! Oh, but that’s not it! If that wasn’t enough, STILES, literally the most uncoordinated kid on Earth, is apparently A BADASS HUNTER WHO KILLS VAMPIRES AND DEMONS? WHAT THE FREAKING HELL?”

Jackson was breathing heavily by the time he finished his rant, and he glared at Derek and Kevin with enough force to rival... well, Derek.

“That pretty much sums it up.” Kevin said lightly, nodding his head. “How was London?”

“Oh, well, you know what, London was a little boring!” Jackson said with vicious sarcasm. “Maybe it was because we didn’t have a MAGIC TREE!”

“You’re not saying much.” Kevin said to Derek, and then he noticed how Jackson and Derek weren’t looking at eachother in the eye. In fact, they were hardly looking at eachother at all, each one’s glances ricocheting off of the staircase and the various tables in the house.

Derek cleared his throat. “Jackson hasn’t been back to Beacon Hills since a couple days after he turned into a werewolf. And he and I didn’t exactly have a very healthy student-teacher relationship.”

Jackson scoffed. “McCall’s an alpha now.” he said, still viciously, but quieter, like he was really considering the weight the words had. His eyes had a bit of a faraway look in them, like even though he was practically terrified of all that had ravaged Beacon Hills since his departure, he wished he could have been there, and Kevin wondered what life had been like for Jackson in London, if there had been any werewolves there, if he had had any company, or if he had been completely alone. “I have to take orders from _McCall_.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Derek said gruffly, addressing Jackson directly for the first time since his arrival. “You’re not a part of this pack anymore, you’re just here to help out.”

Jackson flinched, and Kevin realized something else. All those horrors that Stiles had described- over the phone during the grace period after Donovan’s death, in the waiting room of the hospital, even when the two first met in the bunker- Jackson had been one of them. He had killed, he had caused horror after horror, and he left before he had a chance to make it right. What Kevin had been describing, tragedy after tragedy, Jackson had felt more than just out of place. He was probably angry he couldn’t help the pack survive, couldn’t attone for the things he’s done, and he probably felt the guilt of every single death, like the alpha pack and the nogitsune festered in the dark wake he himself had ravaged.

This angry detachment from the horrors of Beacon Hills was, like most aspects of Jackson’s personality, completely fake.

“Actually, I’m not sure taking orders from Scott will be a good idea right now.” Kevin said, and he made a note to talk to Stiles later about fitting Jackson into the fight. “Theo’s got him wrapped around his finger. He’s compromised. Not to mention I’m kind of on the top of his most wanted list.”

“I’m probably number two.” Derek said, shooting Jackson an inquisitive look, like he, too, was beginning to pick up on the boy’s melancholiness. “Since I never actually told him where I was going.”

“Well, then I’d hate to see where I am.” A voice said from the doorway. Derek, Kevin, and Jackson whirled to see the door wide open and Stiles leaning against the doorway, grinning like an idiot, with an older woman in a sheriff’s uniform standing behind him.

“Stiles!” Kevin exclaimed happily, and he ran over and gave his friend a brief hug. Then he turned towards the woman and held out his hand. “We haven’t met officially.” he said. “Because the Winchesters are idiots. I’m Kevin Tran. It’s an honor to meet you, Sheriff Mills.”

Jody Mills smiled warmly and shook his hand. “And I, you. It’s not every day a girl gets to meet a-”

“-tech genius, yeah, I know.” Kevin said with a somewhat forced laugh. He shot Jody a meaningful look that the werewolves at his back couldn’t see, and she seemed to get the message. “If you don’t mind me asking, how the hell did you get him out?” He inclined his head towards Stiles, who was doing a double take upon seeing Jackson.

Jody smiled mischievously, and Kevin knew he would never know why. “Bureaucracy.” she said simply. But then she looked over at Stiles and her brow furrowed slightly.

“Oh, man.” Stiles said happily, oblivious to the sheriff’s worry. “It was awesome! Jody waltzed in and talked to Parrish for like 5 minutes, and boom! She came out of Dad’s office with his keys! The look on Theo’s face....” Stiles trailed off, looking upwards with a joyful, faraway glance. “It was beautiful. And he couldn’t hear a damn thing! My dad’s had his office lined with wolfsbane and mountain ash for years.”

Derek and Jackson looked less than thrilled upon hearing that.

“Did he say anything to you?” Jody asked, concerned, “while I was in there?”

“Nope!” Stiles said gleefully. “He spent all of his energy trying to hear!”

Jody shot Kevin another glance, this time full of worry.

“Uh, Stiles...” Kevin began tentatively. “You get why this isn’t necessarily a good thing, right?”

“No, I know.” Stiles said, sobering up slightly, but still wearing a goofy grin. “He didn’t say anything. But he did hand me this.” Stiles unfolded his hand to reveal a crumpled sheet of paper. “I didn’t even notice until I was in Jody’s squad car.”

“What does it say?” Kevin asked eagerly.

Stiles shrugged. “Let’s find out.” He gestured for Derek and Jackson to come closer, which they did, Derek immediately so, and Jackson immensely reluctantly. He looked incredibly on edge, looking back and forth from Stiles to Derek, as if trying to figure out who to be more afraid of. He ended up standing next to Kevin.

Stiles unfolded the crumpled paper, and every crinkle seemed to be a gunshot in the empty house. Finally, the paper was exposed, and everybody read it with heavy intensity.

“What in God’s name is that?” Jody exclaimed, but Jackson paled, Derek looked shocked, and Kevin made a noise akin to choking on words. All three whipped their heads to look at Stiles, who held the paper with shaking hands.

“How does he know?” Stiles breathed, and irony of ironies, he looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Stiles? Care to explain?” Jody asked.

“They’re chess moves.” Jackson said quietly. “A whole page of them. Look at this-”

But before he could read any of them, Stiles snatched away the paper and ran up the stairs.

Jody and Kevin glanced at each other quickly before barreling up after him, and Derek and Jackson weren’t very far behind. They found Stiles in his bedroom, muttering like a madman while searching frantically.

“Stiles?” Derek asked tentatively.

“Found it!” Stiles exclaimed, and before anyone could ask any questions, he plopped something down on his desk. A worn chessboard covered in sticky notes.

“I haven’t seen that in a long time.” Derek muttered, while Jackson and Jody looked confused.

“Yeah, I put it away after the whole Benefactor thing.” Stiles said, looking stricken. “I couldn’t bear it anymore. Give me a second.”

He flipped all of the pieces over, examining their sticky notes, and in some cases he scribbled down new ones and stuck them on.

“He left you a guide to a game.” Jody said. “Why?”

“A scare tactic?” Stiles said with a shrug. “I told him in the station it was his move.” He opened back up the sheet of paper and read it.

“Do you play, Jody?” Kevin asked while Stiles set up the board.

Jody shook her head. “Nah, I’m more of a card game person.”

Kevin laughed. “I think Sam and Dean would agree with you.”

“Dean, yeah.” Stiles mused. “The guy has a poker face like nobody’s business, and he’s a genius at hustling pool. Sam, though.... he may have beaten a centuries old witch at poker, but don’t be fooled. He’s the one who taught me how to play chess. And he’s the only one who can still beat me.”

Stiles let that sink in for a minute as he handed the crumpled sheet to Jackson. “Would you mind reading these aloud?”

“Uh, sure.” Jackson said, fumbling a little. “Pawn to D4.”

“That was Kira.” Stiles said, as he moved the white pawn in front of the king forward two spaces. “Leaving town. Scott’s the king, and Kira was his sanctuary.”

“Pawn to E5.” Jackson said.

“That was Liam.” Stiles elaborated, moving the black pawn in front of the queen forward two spaces. “He turned against Scott, and Theo was free to move.”

“Pawn to G4.” Stiles moved another pawn forward.

And so it continued. Stiles moved pawns as more players arrived on the scene. He used the knight that was Parrish to take the pawn that was Hayden, and everyone knew that Hayden was dead. A black bishop took one of Stiles’ rooks. (His father.) At one point, a white bishop named Kevin was cornered by the black queen, a black pawn, and the white king, but managed to escape by taking the pawn. Finally, the third to last directions left the white queen blocked by several pieces, none of which could take her, until a white bishop took the black knight directly in front of her.

“What’s the last move?” Stiles asked, analyzing the board, which had his queen surrounded by two white bishops and two white pawns.

“Queen to G5.” Jackson said quietly.

“That’s Theo.” Kevin said softly as Stiles picked up the black queen and set her gently down. Then he scrambled backwards and scrutinized the board.

“Help me!” he barked. “Which pieces are in danger? Who has to be moved?”

Jody, Kevin, Jackson and Derek scanned the board, looking for any change, but then, “There!” Jackson shouted, pointing to a little pawn that hadn’t been touched the whole game. The queen had been placed directly in front of it.

“Who is it?” Derek asked as Stiles flipped over the pawn and read the bottom. His brow furrowed in confusion and alarm as he set the pawn back down.

“It’s the nemeton.” Stiles said. “But that’s impossible. No one knows where it is!”

“Guys!” Jackson exclaimed. “Check the bottom of the paper.” He held it out.

Kevin squinted at the bottom of the paper, where words were stenciled in very small handwriting. “‘Your move, Stilinski.’” he read.

“How?” Kevin asked. “How does Theo know about the conversation you and I had at the hospital?”

“How does he know about your chessboard?” Derek asked.

“How does he know that that was my idea?” Jackson murmured. “That that’s what I did to make sense of Beacon Hills?”

“How does anyone know anything?” Jody said. “He has eyes. He has ears. And I think I know who they are. Stiles, I think it’s time we give your brothers another call.”


	10. Deals With Devils

Ch. 10

Deals With Devils

Lydia Martin was not a creature who reveled in revenge. She contemplated it, after all what human has no desire to do unto others the injustice that has been foisted on themselves, but backstabbing seemed so... petty. Lydia Martin wasn’t overly petty. While she loved her vibrant lipstick and her little compact mirror, Lydia Martin did not revere the personality people assumed came with them. Stabbing people in the back was so messy. It’s a rash move that does not require much planning and the blood gets on your hands (metaphorically speaking). It was much better to face an opponent head on and take them down on sheer knowledge and force of will, to watch them crumble from the inside out as their argument fails and their credibility collapses. It is much more satisfying to see a person’s reputation, rather than their body, fall.

Lydia was not a creature who reveled in revenge. So she hesitated as she held the faintly flickering match over an ancient-looking bowl full of a strange assortment of finely ground ingredients, (daffodils? really?) covering a symbol as old as some religions. But what human has no desire to do unto others the injustice that has been foisted on themselves, especially in the name of justice for another? When given the opportunity, what person wouldn’t take the chance to make things right? It was flawed logic. Lydia knew that two wrongs didn’t make a right, and this was very, very wrong, but as far as she was concerned, this was her only chance to defeat an enemy miles ahead of his. This wasn’t wrong number two, this was wrong number 5, 6, 7, wrong enough to get her on the same level as her enemy.

Even if that meant sinking to his level.

She stooped. She fell. Call it whatever metaphor you like, but Lydia Martin dropped that flickering match into the bowl of pale green dust, and it lit aflame, casting warmth upon her surprised face, throwing her own disbelief into relief.

And nothing happened.

A minute passed, then two, then ten, and nothing happened. Lydia didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, but that didn’t matter, because she felt both.

But then she sensed it, a presence behind her. There was no rustle of wings, because the creature she summoned could never be considered holy enough, but there was a sixth sense that told her she was suddenly in the company of another human, or at least someone borrowing his flesh.

She did not turn around from her altar, waiting for him to speak first, and he did not disappoint.

“Not even Moose and Squirrel have the guts to summon me without a trap in place.” Crowley said, with a smug smile on his face that she couldn’t see but knew was there. “Now what can I do for you, Miss Martin?”

 

“I talked to Dean.” Stiles said dully, arms crossed, standing over his beloved chessboard. “Four hours ago. He made it clear that he’s busy enough.”

“I’m with Stiles on this one.” Kevin chimed in. “Sam and Dean are kind of busy doing something monumental, not to mention Crowley is working against them as we speak. I think they kind of need to focus.”

“Crowley?” Derek asked. “Isn’t he the guy who helped us with the demon? Why would he be against them now?”

Kevin and Stiles shared an exhausted glance. “It’s complicated.” They both muttered.

“So I’ve heard.” Jackson grumbled.

“You said Theo has eyes and ears.” Stiles reiterated, turning back to Jody. “Who?”

Jody looked a little sheepish. “Stiles, there’s something you need to know,” she began a little hesitantly, “and you’re not going to like it. Your dad had some protocols in place if he were ever unresponsive, and one of those was to make Parrish his temporary replacement. Now, partially thanks to that, I was able to figure out a loophole to get you out- how I did that remains firmly between me and Parrish, but believe me, he was no more happy about the situation than you.” What Jody didn’t mention was that however unhappy Parrish was, he moved to arrest Stiles with surprising vigor, and was clearly under someone’s thumb. Whether it was Scott’s or Theo’s was yet to be determined. “Deputies, or indeed anyone, will tend to look to their leader when something upsets the norm, either to lend support, gauge the situation, receive directions, any reason. Everyone in that station knew Parrish was technically in charge. So when I walked into that station and basically challenged his authority- and upset protocol by a mile- they all looked to their leader. And not everyone looked at him. Some looked at Theo. His eyes and ears are in the heart of this town’s operation.”

Stiles looked the worst kind of betrayed. His dad’s employees, officers he had trusted with his life, and, on occasion, his secrets, could be working against him? “You’re saying Theo has some officers on the payroll?” he asked disheartenedly.

“I’m saying blackmail!” Jody exclaimed. “Bribes! Favors! Promises! Threats! Theo is controlling people! His and the Doctors’ operation is bigger than you thought with a larger endgame. Theo has people, and whether or not they are willing, they’re still more obstacles, more cause for caution we can’t afford. The sharpest claws in the world can’t cut the ways words can entrap populations.And even with all the strings I can pull, four people can’t take on a master puppeteer. We need more help. Call. Your Brothers.”

Stiles didn’t say anything in response, but he looked significantly less spirited as he fumbled in his pockets for his phone. He turned it on and grimaced.

“They already called.” he said, shifting rapidly from glumness to worry. “Several times, actually, when I was in jail.” Without further preamble he hastened to dial one of their numbers.

The Winchesters picked up in record time.

“Stiles?” Sam asked, slightly frantic. “What’s going on? We’ve been calling you for hours!”

“Wow. Wonder what that’s like.” Stiles said, his bitter tone from his earlier conversation with Dean beginning to bleed through. “Sorry. I’ve had some trouble with bars.”

“Yeah, the cell reception there is kind of spotty.” Sam said in quick agreement, and despite the seriousness, Stiles had to stifle a laugh.

“Sam, I talked to Dean not too long ago.” Stiles said in a business-like tone. “And he made it perfectly clear that you guys are too busy to help me. So, if you don’t mind me asking, why the hell are you calling.”

“I know you talked to Dean.” Sam said a little impatiently, and Stiles wasn’t sure which brother it was directed at. “And Crowley called us minutes later saying he was going to kill everyone we’ve ever saved unless we comply with him.”

“I know.” Stiles said, before he could reconsider.

“You KNOW?” Sam yelled, causing Stiles to flinch back from his phone. “How?”

“Because after Dean talked to me and before Crowley talked to Dean, he talked to me.” Stiles replied calmly. “He appeared in my jeep, actually, following Kevin. And you know what he told me? That what I was doing against the Doctors was TOO IMPORTANT to kill anyone in the pack! So hey! After you and Dean close the gates of hell, maybe you want to PRIORITIZE!”

“Stiles-” Sam began, but he was cut off by the terrible sound of somebody choking. Stiles looked up, and then down again, because Jody had collapsed on the floor, blood dribbling down her chin.

“Jody!” Kevin exclaimed, rushing down to her side, Derek and Jackson meeting him there. Stiles watched in horror as Kevin and Derek turned Jody on her side, only for her to throw her arms out to support herself as blood practically fell out of her mouth and on to the carpet.

“STILES!” Sam shouted, startling him out of his horrified daze. “What’s happening?”

“Well, it’s funny.” A voice said from behind Stiles, and all four boys whirled to shoot Crowley a glare. Well, Kevin and Stiles glared. Jackson and Derek practically jumped out of their skins at the sudden appearance of the demon, Jackson even more so.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt your pack.” Crowley continued, strolling over to where Jody, Kevin, and the werewolves were on the floor and giving them a look that can only be described as contempt. “However, I’m still on a vendetta against everyone your brothers have ever saved, and that includes the sheriff here. It’s a shame she never got to finish her thought. She was on to something.”

Jody, though all the blood and the trauma, raised her head for a fraction of a second and gave Crowley a look that could liquify eyeballs. Crowley scoffed.

“You listen here, Crowley!” Sam shouted from Stiles’ phone, and Stiles hastened to put him on speaker. “You don’t have to do this!”

“No, I really do.” Crowley replied, almost bored. “Just like I did to Sarah, and to that wendigo fellow, because you two morons can’t seem to understand something as simple as an ultimatum! So you hear this?” Crowley paused, and let the sound of Jody’s desperate gasps for air fill the room. “Sheriff Mills has about two minutes left to live. So, promise to give up the demon tablet, and we can end this!”

“Crowley-” Sam began to say, but he was interrupted.

“Stiles!” Derek shouted. “What can we do?” He and Jackson looked at him with something akin to desperation. Crowley looked at him with mild pity. Kevin didn’t look at him at all. He kept his back to the hunter as he held Jody while she struggled. Kevin had done this before. He knew there was no way out.

“Sam.” Stiles said in the phone. “What are you waiting for? Say yes so we can save her!”

“Your friend is dying, Sam!” Crowley taunted.

Sam was still silent.

“What is the matter with you!” Stiles exclaimed. “DO IT!”

“You have less than one minute before a very dear friend of yours snuffs it.”

Jody’s coughs grew more frequent.

“SAM!”

“ALRIGHT!” Sam shouted, his voice cutting through the air. “Alright! Just stop it!”

“Be more specific, Sam.” Crowley said.

“Call it off, Crowley!” Dean’s voice errupted suddenly from the phone. “We want to make a deal. We stop the trials, you stop the killing!”

Jody gasped deeper, desperate for air.

“I want the demon tablet.” Crowley said, ignoring Derek and Jackson’s confusion. “The _whole_ demon tablet.”

“Fine, but then the angel tablet comes to us.” Dean said furiously.

“On what grounds?” Crowley demanded, as Jody continued to struggle.

“On the grounds that you’re a douchebag, and no douchebag should have that much power! Now do we have a deal or not?”

“First, I need to hear two little words.” Crowley said tauntingly. “I. Surrender.”

Jody wasn’t even hemorrhaging anymore. Her mouth was open in shock as the life visibly drained from her eyes.

Stiles could picture all too well the look Dean was probably giving Sam. _He’s not going to do it._ Stiles thought in a panic. _He’s not going to do it and Jody will die over his own stupid pride!_

But then suddenly Dean’s voice rang out, clear as day.

“I surrender.”

Crowley snapped his fingers with a pleased expression, and Jody collapsed from exhaustion. “Here’s how it’s going to work, Moose.” he said. “Bobby Singer’s house. 1 hour, enough time to scuttle out of your little rabbit hole. I’ll bring the contract, you’ll bring the tablet. And come alone.”

“Hey that wasn’t part of the-” Sam began to say angrily, but Crowley merely plucked the phone from Stiles’ grasp and shut it.

Even though Sam hadn’t actually been in the room with them, his absence left a gaping hole, and a silence that was filled by shuddering breaths as Jody began to recover.

Stiles snatched his phone back from Crowley. “How did you get in here?” he asked shakily. His voice, usually steady, was quaking a little, and his already pale skin was ghostly. No doubt Jody’s near death freaked him out more than he let on. “I’ve got devil's traps on all the doorways, salt around the entire house-”

“A little paranoid, aren’t we?” Crowley said mockingly.

“-every fixture in this house was replaced with iron some time ago! Crowley, how did you get in here?” Stiles demanded with near desperation.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Crowley taunted. “I’m not going to tell you. But I will tell you this. Stiles? Kevin? I didn’t kill you because I thought you’d be useful. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Is this how it all started?” Kevin said rather bravely, standing up and standing next to Stiles in solidarity. “When Samuel Campbell started hunting down monsters for you, is this how you roped him in? Is that what we’re going to become?”

Crowley smirked unpleasantly. “Samuel Campbell was a means to an end, brute force that was as convenient as he was psychotic. His grandsons are not much different. But you two,” Crowley wagged his fingers at Stiles and Kevin, “your werewolf friends,” he nodded towards Derek and Jackson, “and the Sheriff,” a glance towards his former victim, “are on to something. Your buddy in the interrogation room gave you everything you need to know. Use it. As to what happens if you succeed, well, I don’t really care. I might kill you. I might not. But I can’t have hell on earth if the earth has gone to hell, can I?”

Kevin and Stiles blinked in surprise, and then Crowley was gone.

Kevin whistled. “Did we just get the 'chosen one' speech?”

“Yeah.” Jackson said weakly. “I think we did.”

“Stiles?” Derek questioned, as Stiles had moved very quickly next to him.

“Are you alright, Jody?” he asked the sheriff.

“Yeah.” Jody said gruffly, already wiping the blood from her chin and attempting to stand up.

“Derek, help her up.” Stiles ordered. Then he leapt off of the ground and flung himself towards his desk, tossing open a drawer and rummaging savagely through it until he found what he was looking for. A small, red and gray flashlight.

“Him getting in here is one thing.” Stiles muttered, walking into the center of the room, where Kevin, Jackson, and Jody leaning on Derek surrounded him. “I wasn’t lying. The entire house is surrounded in salt and iron, there are traps over all of the doorways, he wouldn’t have gotten in easy. But _out_...” Stiles turned on his flashlight, wincing at the unnatural white-blue color. Then he shined it upwards towards his plain white ceiling. Only something flickered.

“What’s that?” Kevin asked with a sharp intake of breath, as Stiles moved his flashlight around the ceiling, each stroke of light emitting the faintest glimmer of gold. Stiles moved his flashlight in a wide circle, as each brief line of Hebrew script was quickly illuminated, only to be snuffed out into blank ceiling once the beam of the flashlight passed. Stiles moved the light more towards the center, unveiling a shiny seven-pointed star, until finally, revealing a giant depicted scorpion hanging directly over their heads.

“The Key of Solomon.” Stiles said, well, solemnly. “I painted it in a metallic version of the color of my ceiling. It stretches around the entire room. And it’s much more powerful than a devil’s trap. As far as I know, only one demon has ever broken one, and she died a few weeks ago.”

“Meg.” Kevin said in agreement.

Stiles nodded. “Crowley was here.” he indicated with the flashlight to a point in his room well within the bounds of the trap. “And a trap this powerful? He would have been able to sense it the moment he walked in. He could have stayed on the edge. Hell, he probably has enough power to break it. But he didn’t do anything, and he shouldn’t have been able to leave. Which means someone worked magic. It’s probably how he got in, and it’s the only way he would have gotten out.”

Stiles shut off his flashlight and tossed it frustratingly on to his desk, where it landed with a dull _thwack!_

“Where who got out of where?”

Everyone whirled towards the new voice, and Stiles, Jody and Kevin jumped. The werewolves had already known.

“Danny!”

 

“I apologize for that, Miss Martin.” Crowley said as he returned to her living room, brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “But thank you for your assistance.”

“Alright, I got you in and out of Stiles’ house.” Lydia said, not sounding the least bit scared by the demon. “Now I have some questions.”

“Do go on?” Crowley asked.

“There’s a deputy Stiles’ dad works with, Jordan Parrish. He’s a hellhound. Stiles told me that hellhounds are invisible, soul-stealing dogs. Could you explain how this is possible?”

Crowley whistled. “This town does have the worst luck, doesn’t it? It just so happens, Lydia, may I call you Lydia? It just so happens that I not only know what you’re talking about, I know who. I’ve stumbled across this Jordan fellow once before, though I doubt he’d remember. A friend of mine used to live in his old post. Bobby Singer.”

“Bobby Singer lived in South Dakota.” Lydia said incredulously. “Sioux Falls. No way is Parrish from there. He would have mentioned-” Lydia stops suddenly, her eyes widening.

“He would have mentioned?” Crowley prompted. “Did he mention where he came from at all? I wouldn’t. Not when the office I worked at was bombarded by a zombie attack, and who would believe me? As it so happens, Lydia, there’s more than one type of hellhound. There are the things that are actually hellhounds, and then there’s the misunderstood creatures, that share the same name because people were confused. Parrish is one of those, and he’s a lot like you. An omen, if you will. He was in Sioux Falls on the eve of the apocalypse, and wouldn’t you know that back when he was training for the army, his camp was in Wyoming, surrounded by five churches built by Samuel Colt.”

Lydia’s eyes widened further. “He was near the devil’s gate when it opened.” she whispered.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on him.” Crowley admitted, “ever since I found him out. There’s more like him, you know, all over the world. But he’s the most interesting. Because while hellhounds feel drawn to a place about to be overcome with disaster, Parrish seems to have a knack for sussing out the ones that are supernatural. For instance, while he was working for Sheriff Jody Mills- lovely woman, you two would get along famously- he took a few days off to visit some friends in Ilchester, Maryland. We all know what happened there. He drove through a small town in Utah days before a demon arrived and carved the word ‘CROATOAN’ into a wooden post. And after he quit his job in Sioux Falls, he was everywhere. Van Nuys, California. I hear that’s where Adam Milligan bit it. Carthage, Missouri. That one’s particularly personal. He spent days in Chicago, right before a freak storm was about to wipe it out. He was even in Detroit when Sam said yes.”

“That’s impossible.” Lydia said. “There’s no way he could have known where everything pivotal in the apocalypse was, let alone caused it!”

“He didn’t cause anything.” Crowley reassured. “Do you cause the deaths of the people you scream for? Parrish isn’t aware of any of the significance of the places he’s been. Not until he came here. He’s taken several days off of work, you know, and not for his mental health. One day he suddenly felt the need to travel to Lawrence, Kansas. Actually, come to think of it, he’s been to Lawrence a lot. But the fact that he stays here, the fact that he’s been here for almost a year, has little to do with the nemeton. This town is drenched in tragedy. And if he’s still here, it means it is nowhere near over.”

“What else can you tell me?” Lydia asked curiously.

Crowley contemplated for a second. “You’ve figured out that Parrish is in tune with the nemeton. I could explain that, but I get the feeling you’ll figure it out on your own. But if it seems odd that Parrish’s story coincides so much with Stiles’ family, it shouldn’t. They are usually the cause of the disasters Parrish chases. But if he ever feels agitated, like he has to be everywhere at once, then know that something big is happening. Worldwide big.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lydia asked suddenly, eyeing Crowley shrewdly. “You know I’m not going to sell you my soul.”

“Your soul wouldn’t do me much good, since it’s going to purgatory.” Crowley said. “I’m proposing a favor. If I’m right, and I usually am, then very soon, you’re going to feel like you need to scream. And you’re going to know who it’s for. When that happens, tell Stiles. That is my only condition.”

“That’s it?” Lydia asked incredulously.

“That’s it.” Crowley said. “People don’t seem to understand that I am so much more cooperative when I’m not summoned into a devil’s trap. I trust you won’t repeat this conversation to anyone.”  
Lydia opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Crowley was gone.


	11. All Hell Breaks Loose (Part 4)

Ch. 11

All Hell Breaks Loose (Part 4)

The seven of them sat in Stiles’ living room, him, Kevin, Jackson, Derek, Jody, Danny, and Ethan. Briefly, Stiles told Danny and Ethan everything that they’d missed, and his hunter heritage.

Danny, unsurprisingly, was extraordinarily taken aback.

“So you knew that I knew about the werewolves?” Danny asked. “How?”

“The same way you knew about the werewolves.” Stiles said. “I looked. I listened. I knew you wouldn’t come back. Until now, that is.”

Danny turned towards Jackson. “Do you believe this?” he asked.

“What, that demons are real and that Stilinski’s a badass? It’s been an interesting two hours.” Jackson replied glumly.

“All this begs the question: what do we do now?” Ethan stated, and he, out of all of the werewolves, seemed the least freaked out. “Because Theo’s story rings false on so many levels. He wasn’t bitten by our old alpha. We would have known.”

“I remember him.” Danny said. “Something did seem kind of off about him. Even back then.”

“Well, we can rub it into Scott later.” Stiles said. Then he froze, turning ghostly white. “Shoot! Scott!”

Kevin paled as well. “He was tailing me. He definitely would have been tailing me. But with Crowley, I forgot-”

“Malia’s gone.” Stiles said, interrupting him. “Theo’s at the station. But where’s Scott? He should have been here by now!” He whirled on Kevin. “Did you stop by the warehouse?”

Kevin looked horribly guilty. “By the time I remembered to turn around, I was already on the gravel road.” he said with bruised confidence.

“No no no no no no......” Stiles said quickly, running his fingers through his hair. “We have to go. We have to go now!”

“Stiles!” Jody said. “Maybe you should think this through a little. Go where?”

“My house belongs to the sheriff!” Stiles said, spreading his arms wide. “I can’t keep a stockpile of supernatural weapons here. I keep them somewhere else. And we need to go. Now! Kevin, Jackson, you’re with me. Derek, ride with the sheriff. Danny, Ethan, follow. It’s going to get ugly.”

For once, no one argued. Kevin tossed Stiles the keys Winchester style, and before anyone could think too hard about what they were walking into, they were on the road.

 

Last time we were with Scott, he was staring down a gravel road and demanding answers. Now he was pacing back and forth, a phone to his ear, talking to several people in quick succession.

“-what do you mean he got out-”

“-you’re _where?_ -”

“-no, Malia, we can’t run as fast as cheetahs-”

“-just hold on a second! Give me a second to wrap my head around-”

“-thanks, Parrish, but I got it covered-”

“-I think you’re being a little hasty, it was only 14 hours ago-”

“-I can’t hear myself think-”

“-Mom, I’m fine, but Stiles-”

“-comatose, as in-”

“-look, Liam-”

“-just be ready in-”

By the time Scott hung up on the final caller, he was exhausted, massaging the bridge of his nose in the early afternoon sunlight. _14 hours_. Had it really only been less than a day since Liam tried to kill him? Had it really only been less than two since Kevin had kidnapped Theo, since Stiles’ betrayal? Scott’s head spun with the disembodied voices of his friends. Most of them were mad at him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame them. It was Stiles. Hell, the first time this happened, the pack had been split 50/50. It had been Isaac that saved them, and where was Isaac now? Gone, like so many others, in the wind, doomed to materialize at their own convenience.

A crunchy sound snapped Scott out of his daze, and he listened intently before he figured out what it was. _Wheels on gravel._ Lots of wheels. Scott’s mouth set in a grim line as he slinked back into the trees. _They’re coming._

 

“We’re stopping here.” Stiles said, breaking the silence he had maintained up until this point.”

“Why?” Kevin asked, looking around. “We’re almost there.”

“Exactly.”

Stiles did not elaborate further as he lept out of the Jeep, Kevin and Jackson following reluctantly, taking care not to step on too many plants. The road to the treatment plant was long, winding, and narrow, with a thicket of trees and prairie plants on either side. The plant itself was in the middle of nowhere. The perfect place for Stiles to hide.

“I don’t have much of a trunk.” Stiles was saying, patting the Jeep affectionately, “so I had to improvise.” He went around to the front of the car and opened the hood.

“What, is your jeep still breaking down, Stilinski?” Jackson said snidely, but laced with something almost like respect. Or fear. Either one, Stiles was cool with.

“What do you think, Jackson?” Stiles retorted. “Yeah. But look closer.”

Kevin squinted. “Is that a.... box? Right next to the radiator? Jeez, is that safe?”

“Dean okayed it.” Stiles said with a shrug, sliding a long, thin, dark brown wooden box out from under the hood. “And really, he knows cars much better than I do. I’ve been trying to get him to fix my jeep but he’s been so busy...”

“Stiles!” Derek said, from where he, Jody, Danny and Ethan were parked behind the jeep. “Focus.”

“Right. Sorry.” Stiles took a deep breath, and for an instant, his facade was flawed, and everyone could see how much he was freaking out. The fact that he hadn’t slept since Theo had knocked him out cold didn’t help. “I have the warehouse, but I have this too, just in case.” He opened up the box. “Everyone pick something.”

Jody eyed a sawed-off shotgun with a ferocious gleam. “What do you think, wolfy?” she said to Derek. “You know how to shoot a gun?”

“Yes, actually.” Derek said disgruntledly.

Kevin pulled out a long, thin, silver katana. “I’m not even going to ask.” he said, staring at the sword with mute awe.

“You know how to use that?” Stiles asked with a languid grin.

Kevin raised his eyes from the sword to look at Stiles. “If your brothers weren’t so keen on treating me like precious cargo, they would have realized that I’m a lot more useful than I look. My mom was obsessed with all sorts of education, not just school. I learned cello, yeah, but I also learned martial arts. Coupled with the fencing club I was in in high school, yeah, I know how to use a sword.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I’m beginning to think you’re replacing me.”

Kevin’s grin faltered slightly. “I’m beginning to think you aren’t wrong.”

The two shared a meaningful look before the moment shattered on the floor, and everyone returned to their vehicles, newly armed.

 

“Stiles,” Jackson said, leaning forward so that his chin rested on the front seat, “what do you think we’re walking in to?”

“Hopefully, nothing.” Stiles said with a worried sigh.

“And if it’s not nothing?”

“Well.....” Stiles said, shooting Jackson a wary look, “how do you feel about fighting your own pack?”

Jackson scowled.

“You know, Jackson, why don’t you make yourself useful?” Stiles said annoyedly. He took one hand off of the steering wheel and shuffled around the glove compartment until he found a little slip of paper, which he held behind his back for Jackson to take. “Carve this symbol into the ceiling with your claws. If it hurts, well, consider it payback. For everything.”

 

Scott winced as the gravel crunched again, louder this time. _They’re here._

 

The road to the treatment plant was long and winding, and Stiles and company had arrived at the last bend. Stiles took a deep breath, then pulled around the bend and found.... nothing. The pool of gravel outside of the doors was empty. The whole clearing was empty. The wide double doors were shut. Stiles let out a manic laugh of relief, then shut off the jeep quickly, bounding out of the car. He was quickly joined by the rest of the group.

“What is this place?” Jody asked, with a wary glance at the still trees.

“My haven.” Stiles muttered, with a bit of a shameful glance at the blue wooden doors. “In case things go horribly wrong. Which they usually do.”

Derek chose that impeccably timed moment to tense up, angling his head towards the breeze like it was whispering secrets. “Stiles.” he said forcefully, with a wary glance towards the trees surrounding them. “We aren’t alone.”

Stiles, Kevin, Jackson, Jody, Derek, Danny, and Ethan were all standing in a cluster at the center of a gravel clearing surrounded by trees, the road blocked by their cars, and the barn-resembling treatment plant. Each was startled horribly as suddenly, figures slinked out from the shadowy forest, surrounding the group.

There were seven figures, spaced out evenly in a perfect circle, circling Stiles and his gang with untempered grace, the trees’ long shadows hiding their faces, yet their ease of movement and their disguise did not distract Stiles from their horrible familiarity. Like clockwork, five of them unsheathed their claws in unison, filling the empty air with a metallic ring that lasted almost as long as the intimidation tactic. Derek, Jackson and Ethan, ever the wolves in sheep's clothing, grimaced and winced, while Stiles, Jody, Kevin and Ethan watched the revolving circle with calculating eyes.

“How’d you find us?” Stiles asked one of the clawed figures, the one that was so easily in charge. “I’ve known how to hide from werewolves for quite some time.” The challenge hung in the air, and Stiles waited for the werewolf to take it.

“Tire tracks.” the leader said, and Stiles saw that none of his present company flinched upon hearing the voice. They all knew who these enemies were.

Then why was Stiles so shocked? After everything he’d been through in the past two days alone- the fight, the kidnapping, the arrest, the chess game- it all culminated to this, an epic tale for the ages, and Stiles was still left speechless at the big twist. Reluctantly, he tightened the grip on his knife. He narrowed his eyes at the leader of the shadowed figures.

“You can come on out, Scott. We know who you are.”

Scott’s red eyes cut through the thin shadows like darts, and their shape was visible far before the rest of him was. Nevertheless, he complied, and his, Theo’s, Liam’s, Brett’s, Parrish’s, Lydia’s and Kira’s faces were all thrown into relief by the gentle sunlight. Stiles noticed that while Theo, Liam and Kira were glaring daggers, Brett, Parrish and Lydia looked more reluctant. Good.

Scott’s eyes flitted from Jackson to Derek to Ethan to Danny. “You called in some old favors.” he said with a degree of surprise.

Stiles eyed Parrish and Brett disdainfully. “So did you. Buying out the police, Scott, I’m disappointed. That’s my thing, not yours. If you wanted to arrest me, charge me for something I actually did! We’ve got a very long list! Or better yet, grab a pair of cuffs and do it outright! Don’t go behind my dad’s back with his will when he isn’t even dead yet-”

“Stiles.” Jody said harshly, cutting him off mid rant, yet that did nothing to quell the anger in his eyes.

Scott had the decency to look confused. “Will?”

Stiles gave Parrish a look of pure disgust. “He’s dying.” he said with disguised desperation. “And I can’t save him. But he isn’t dead. Not yet. Sheriff Mills got her facts wrong. I knew about his line of succession, hell, it was my idea. But it doesn’t get put into action until he’s been dead for twelve hours, not unresponsive. But don’t worry, Parrish. At the rate this day is going, you’ll probably be able to charge me formally very soon. You sorry excuse for a hellhound.”

Everybody looked rather perturbed at Stiles’ seemingly random insult, but Lydia gasped. “You knew?” she asked.

“Of course he knew.” Theo interrupted with a cold look. “Stiles knows lots of things he shouldn’t. And that’s why we’re here.”

“Right.” Scott said, inclining with his head towards the treatment plant. “What’s in the building, Stiles?”

Stiles shrugged. “How should I know?” Inside his head, his brain was screaming _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!_

“Funny you should say that,” Liam said rather nastily, “because we have no idea. The doors are locked, but only Lydia could even touch the handle. We tried breaking down the walls, but we literally bounced off of them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this whole seemingly innocent building was full of-”

“-mountain ash.” Kira finished with a rather betrayed look, the irony. “We checked with Deaton. He has no idea that this building was here, or that there was a high enough concentration of mountain ash to keep us out.”

“Rather odd for an abandoned water treatment plant, don’t you think?” Lydia said, and Stiles knew, just knew, he was done for. “So we checked it’s records. This building hasn’t been closed for very long, just about two months through our junior year. Right when the alpha pack was defeated.” Lydia cast a wary look at Ethan.

“Right when the nogitsune showed up.” Theo said, with an almost wistful look that no one but Stiles noticed.

“Right when Alexander died.” Scott said with an air of finality. “So do you want to tell us what’s going on here, Stiles, or are we going to have to make you?”

Stiles took a deep breath.

_Scott talks a big game, but look at him, his claws are shaking. Everyone else, though, looks about ready to kill. Especially Theo. But if I don’t do anything.... everything comes crashing down. And Theo wins. The Doctors win._

Stiles looked behind him at his friends, his allies, the people who have gathered together and stuck out their necks on his behalf. And then he turned to look at his supposed wolf pack. The group of friends that was supposed to run deeper than family, until it got so polluted. The choice was obvious.

“Before I tell you anything, what are you accusing me of?”

Scott faltered, and maybe it was a trick of the sunlight, but his strong-and-knowledgeable-leader persona seemed to fracture enough for Stiles to recognize the person in front of him, to see the ghost of his best friend.

_But what do I do to ghosts?_

The mirage faded, and Scott spoke. “Did you do this, Stiles? Are you working against us?”

Stiles smiled sadly. “No.”

Scott lurched back slightly. “I don’t believe you.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side as he analyzed Scott. “Well then you’re smarter than you look. Listen to my heartbeat, Scott. You know that’s not going to tell you anything. So what the hell makes you think _I’m_ going to tell you anything?”

“Wishful thinking.” Scott said. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, the inevitable looming over their heads. “For once, I guess we both were.”

_I was wrong to think you would understand. I was wrong to think I wouldn’t have to lie._

“This won’t be easy.” Scott said sadly.

Stiles smiled slightly. “Since when have I ever been known to do anything easy?”

The circle of seven supernaturals stopped. The tension swung in the air like a pendulum, back and forth between the two opposing forces, and then, like a jellyfish, the outward circle contracted as the seven suddenly charged, clashing with Stiles and his group with the might of an army, and turning a ring-like shape of people into chaos. Scott faced Stiles with unsheathed claws and angry red eyes as Stiles raised his silver knife as all hell broke loose across the clearing.


	12. Civil War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter contains some violence. I don't think it's very graphically described, and if you have no problems watching either show, you'll have no problems with this. This chapter is the informal end of part 1 of the story. Enjoy!

Ch. 12

Civil War

It all happened so fast. It sounds cliche, but it’s true. Kevin counted barely a heartbeat of time before Stiles and Scott were talking and suddenly he was being charged by who he assumed was Liam, based on the height and apparent age. Kevin blinked, and yellow eyes and claws filled his vision, forcing him to duck and roll under the werewolf’s swiping arm. He stood up after his brief somersault, but Liam grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked, pitching Kevin towards the ground. Liam stood over him triumphantly, and his claws swiped down as if to reduce Kevin’s throat to ribbons, but he was knocked out of the way by Jody, who in turn was using her shotgun to bar a swiftly swinging sword. The girl attached to that sword grimaced, and Kevin took the moment to scramble to his feet. Jody kicked the girl’s (Kira’s) legs, unbalancing her, and turned to deflect Liam’s blow with another swipe of her shotgun, and as Kira stumbled back, Kevin drew his own sword. Jody’s back was towards Kira, and the latter raised her sword again, but before she could bring it down she was blocked by Kevin. Her eyes widened as she took in the unusually dark katana Kevin wielded.

“Where did you get that?” she hissed, and she almost seemed to recognize it. Then, she spun, her hair fanning out behind her as her sword moved so fast, that Kevin blocked it again only with seconds to spare. They continued on for minutes, her attacking with an aggressive offense, him barely escaping with his life. She was a brilliant fighter, and Kevin’s swordsmanship could not compare. Each time he blocked, her sword moved inches closer towards his face. Soon, he knew, she would swing and his body would depart with his head. Again, Kevin got lucky, for just as Kira was dealing what was sure to be a winning blow, she was knocked to the floor by Parrish, who had been thrown by Derek. They both landed in a heap with an _oomph!,_ and Kevin turned to thank Derek, only to find him engaging another werewolf, this time tall, with lopsided curly hair. The two were a flurry of claws and blue-and-yellow eyes, so fast that Kevin could not tell who was winning. He didn’t have to, because soon he had another adversary in the form of Parrish, who had gotten off of the ground and punched him in the face. Kevin stumbled backwards, his vision blurring slightly as the world swam, pain erupting in his left cheek. When he came to, the sword had left his hand, and he swung blindly, hitting Parrish in the shoulder with enough force that probably hurt both of them equally. Kira had run off, probably to finish off Jody, and Kevin was all alone as Parrish performed a roundhouse kick that swept Kevin off of his feet and landed him once again on the ground.

“Stiles said you were a hellhound.” Kevin muttered as Parrish stood over him, his words slurring slightly. “Well I’ve had just enough of Hell.” He reached into his jean pocket and took out a handful of loose rock salt, which he tossed at Parrish. He wasn’t expecting anything to happen, which is why it was a total shock when Parrish’s face and neck started to sizzle, right where the salt had landed. Parrish let out a strangled cry and sank to his knees, rubbing his face with vigorous panic, which only seemed to make the burning worse.

Kevin was about to collapse in relief, but then a shrill “PARRISH!” sounded from across the clearing, and Kevin, with his slanted, blurred vision, saw a sweep of red hair run up to the officer and press her hands to his cheeks. Kevin blinked, and suddenly the mass of red was in front of him. “This is for your own good.” Lydia whispered, before a dull impact sounded and Kevin’s vision turned black.

 

It all happened so fast. Seeing Lydia had shocked Jackson, sure. Well, that was an understatement. When she had emerged from the trees, a goddess even in a t-shirt and neon shorts, Jackson felt like his past two years away were only two minutes, yet at the same time, two hundred years. He felt like too much time had passed since he had seen her last, and not enough. He felt like his life in London was one big blur, speeding by in tunneled vision and brief soundbites, only to finally still here, in this moment, in this clearing. Time seemed to stop when looked at her, her face a little more weary, her eyes a little less bright. He began to wonder why he had even left at all. And then he realized that she wasn’t looking at him. Actually, she was looking anywhere but at him. Jackson felt his anger rising, but he squashed it quickly, ignoring the turmoil of feelings churning within him. He wasn’t here to win her back. She wasn’t his to win back. He was here to do Stilinski a favor and then get the hell back to London. Speaking of which... so much had changed. It was more than Lydia. As Jackson looked around, he began to see through the illusion of the perfect pack. For one thing, Allison’s absence left a gaping hole, as did Isaac’s, and even Erica and Boyd’s. Now, Jackson hadn’t been close with the last two, but technically, they were all in Derek’s pack, and as Jackson looked at Scott’s jarring red eyes, he was reminded again of what he had missed. There were two new kids, Liam and Brett, who Jackson didn’t like the look of at all, and then there was Kira, who looked capable but troubled. Then there was Theo. He wasn’t new. No, he was very, very old, and Jackson remembered him very well. It took one to know one, after all. Theo was just as much a fake as Jackson. While Jackson pretended to be devoid of caring, Theo did the opposite, and Jackson had always seen right through him. They had resented each other. So, naturally, when the fighting began to break out, Theo charged right towards him. He swiped low, attempting to knock Jackson off of his feet, but Jackson flipped, then tackled him, cutting his claws across Theo’s chest.

Theo didn’t even flinch. “Remember me?” he taunted, through heavy breathing. “Cause I sure remember you, Jackson.”

“Hard to forget.” Jackson said with a snarl, raising his clawed hand to cut another time, only Theo’s hand shot out and stopped him, before headbutting him, knocking Jackson away. Jackson stumbled to his feet, only to be kicked away again.

“I remember,” Theo said calmly as they grappled, before finally holding Jackson in a headlock, sucker punching him in the stomach repeatedly, “you taunting me, saying to me that you would tell everyone my big secret. Do you remember?”

“I remember.” Jackson said through gritted teeth, as Theo punched him again. “I remember that you were a sadistic asshole who didn’t care about anyone, and it’s refreshing to think that out of everyone here, you are the only one who hasn’t changed.”

“That’s right.” Theo said, tightening the headlock. “You don’t like change very much, do you? You prefer the world to laze along at your own petrified pace. All these changes, the new alpha, the new pack, must be driving you absolutely crazy.”

“Not as crazy as you!” Jackson said with a strangled voice, and with sudden force, he burst through the headlock, knocking Theo aside. For once in his life, he ignored Theo Raeken, and instead ran to where Sheriff Mills was fighting Liam with the barrel of her shotgun. He was about fifteen feet away when she fired, and Liam was knocked back with something that was definitely not a bullet.

“Rock salt!” Jody shouted across the din, noticing his stare. “It hurts like hell.”

Liam whimpered, curling into a ball as the salt stung his bruised chest.

Jackson turned away from the scene to see Lydia, breathtaking Lydia, bending over an unconscious Kevin and a writhing Parrish. Kevin’s sword should have been beside him, but instead, it had been picked up by Danny, who was with Ethan, fighting and simultaneously reasoning with Kira. Kira lowered her sword, looking confused at whatever Danny was saying, only for Ethan to be attacked by Theo, who had apparently recovered, and whatever peace the three had brokered was ruined. Danny shifted his attention from Kira to Ethan and Theo, and soon Kira was in front of Jackson. He raised his hands in surrender, making her pause, but it was moot because the fight between Derek and the curly-haired guy drove right through them. Kira and Jackson leapt apart to dodge the flurry of claws, and just before the curly guy, Brett, swiped his claws towards Derek’s throat, Jackson’s arm shot out, stopping him. Brett turned and snarled at him, poised to attack, but then a powerful voice rang out on the field. “STOP!”

 

It all happened so fast. Scott’s claws came out of nowhere, swift and brutal, and Stiles ducked, unsheathing his knife as he lunged on his hands, kicking the backs of Scott’s knees. Scott tumbled forward, reminding Stiles of how weak the alpha truly was, and Stiles stood quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brett fighting Ethan and Danny, Jackson fighting Theo, Derek fighting Parrish, Jody fighting Kira and Kevin fighting Liam, but he paid it all no heed, instead lifting Scott up by the scruff of his jacket.

“What were you planning on doing, Scott?” Stiles asked in between heavy breaths.

Scott’s arms went from hanging limply at his side to around Stiles’ waist, and suddenly Stiles was pitched forward, slamming against the gravel ground with all of the wind knocked out of him.

“What would you do, Stiles, if I suddenly started killing and kidnapping?”

“Make sure I had all the facts first!” Stiles snapped as he scrambled to his feet.

“Well maybe I would stop lying to the people trying to help!” Scott yelled.

Stiles scoffed, and gestured to the chaos around him. “You call this help? It’s a distraction, Scotty. The doctors are probably doing something awful right now, and we can’t stop them because we’re too busy dealing with each other.”

“You’re right.” Scott said. “So let’s end this.” Then he lunged, and Stiles dropped to the ground as Scott sailed over him. It would have been hilarious if the world hadn’t ended with fire.

Scott got to his feet, turned, and ran, and this time, Stiles was ready. He slashed with his knife, once, twice, and Scott’s arms burned, slowing him down. Stiles kicked him in the chest as he ran by, and suddenly, Scott was sprawling.

Stiles turned away from Scott, (mistake, he should have known it was a mistake, he should have known,) to see, of all things, Jackson burst out of a headlock and throw Theo to the ground. He laughed. He could not help but laugh. And he was still laughing as two hands snaked around his ankles and _pulled_ , dragging Stiles, still laughing, harshly through the gravel, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt, still laughing, and slamming him, still laughing, chest first into something cold and solid.

“What is so funny?” Scott asked annoyedly as he twisted one of Stiles’ arms behind his back and, with his other hand on Stiles’ shoulder, pressed him into what Stiles now recognized as the wall of the treatment plant.

Stiles wasn’t laughing anymore, but he was still grinning like an idiot, not that Scott could tell. “Jackson, taking down Theo.” he said, whispering due to being winded by the impact of the wall. “You remember those two, eight years ago, always at eachother’s throats. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.”

Scott sighed, sounding exhausted. “You call this ‘not changing?’” Stiles assumed he was referring to their current situation. Now that he thought about it, the arm Scott was twisting was kind of starting to hurt. His other shoulder would probably bruise, too.

“I call this a means to an end.” Stiles said, harsher, no longer smiling. “So congratulations, you got me. Now, Scott, I can’t see much except for this rather uninteresting wall, but I imagine our packs are still tearing each other to shreds. Maybe you want to stop that.”

Scott shot Stiles a look of exasperation the latter could not see, but that quickly melted to alarm as he turned around and took stock of the chaos behind him. Liam was on the ground, groaning. So was Parrish, Lydia beside him. Jody was clutching her shoulder like it was dislocated. Kevin looked to be unconscious. Kira was clutching a bleeding leg that had several claw marks up and down it. Danny was running to her to help, as Ethan and Theo were fighting like dogs and Brett was about to deal a killing blow to Derek only to be held back by Jackson who turned and-

“STOP!” Scott roared, unable to take it anymore. His eyes flashed red, and he could see Liam’s, Kira’s, Theo’s, Brett’s, and even Derek’s, Ethan’s, and Jackson’s glow in response. And everyone stopped, just like that, looking at Scott with mixtures of pain, exhaustion, surprise, and horror.

“Stop.” Scott repeated, quieter. “It’s over.”

It was like a moving sculpture, the previous tableau erased as everybody got to their feet, Brett reaching out a hand for Derek, Lydia pulling up a startled Kevin, and Jody dragging a disgruntled Liam. Then it was like oil and water, as the two packs dusted each other off before separating, the only indication that a fight happened at all was the looks of resentment still being exchanged between Ethan and Theo.

A solemn silence settled over the packs, but it was broken as a squirming Stiles began to grow impatient. “Is everyone okay?” he practically shouted. “Dude, help me out here. I can’t see jack.”

“Yeah, everyone’s fine.” Scott said, eyeing a disoriented Kevin, who was holding on to Jody for dear life. “For the most part anyway.”

“Great.” Stiles said sardonically, muffled by the wall he was still up against. “Now what?”

“Now, you open the door to the treatment plant.” Scott said. Stiles tensed, and Scott ignored that, talking over the other’s budding protests. “I won, fair and square, Stiles. This doesn’t need to get any uglier than it already has. I know that you can open this door, Stiles. So do it. And then I’ll let you go.”

Stiles muttered something indistinguishable.

“What was that?” Scott asked.

“My keys.” Stiles said, clearer. “I need my keys. So get the hell off of me.”

Scott, very slowly, released his grip on Stiles, who whirled around in a huff. Still huffing, he dug around in his pockets before pulling out a silver key ring that Scott knew very, very well. Only he never suspected that Stiles had anything to hide on it.

“I was right.” Scott said, and he wasn’t even surprised anymore. Not really. “You do have something to hide.”

Stiles looked up from his jangling keyring and rolled his eyes. “We all have something to hide, Scotty. The skeletons in my closet are just a little dustier, that’s all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Theo flinch at the memory of an earlier conversation. Good.

It was right about then that Stiles remembered the one advantage he gave himself. Theo knew that Stiles was a hunter. He didn’t know that the pack knew that, too.

Finally, Stiles found the right key. He held it like it burned in his hand as Scott stepped out of his way and he approached the door. He had considered lying. He had considered acting clueless. But ultimately, the fact that Scott was willing to fight him over his secrets scared Stiles a lot more than he let on. Theo had dug his claws deep, and then slunk back to the sidelines. It was brilliant. Because Stiles hadn’t been fighting Theo or the Doctors for the past day, he had only been fighting Scott. It was the ultimate diversion, and Stiles had to end it. Even if that meant endangering himself.

“I open this door,” Stiles said, putting the key in the lock, “and this ends. You said it yourself, you’ll let me go. You’ll let _us_ go.”

“It depends on what I find.” Scott said, his eyes hardening.

Stiles shook his head. “You’re not going to like what you find. So I need your word. You. Will. Let. Us. Go.”

Scott looked uncertain. “I swear.”

“Okay.” Stiles said. Without further ado, he turned the key in the lock, pulled it out, and kicked the door open. He gestured grandly for Scott to enter. “Have at it.”

Scott entered, pulling Stiles along with him, as he and his pack rushed to explore the warehouse. They took in the high wooden ceilings and the bluish sunlight filtering through the windows. Then Kira found the closet full of weapons, and Scott released Stiles in astonishment as he marched over and analyzed all the guns, knives, and herbs.

“Jesus, Stiles.” he said simply.

Stiles wasn’t really listening. He was backing slowly towards the double wooden doors, his legs numb and his head spinning as his worst nightmare came true. Slowly, and surely, the pack would unravel all of his secrets.

Stiles was almost at the threshold when he ran into something solid. Theo. The bastard had a smug smile on his face as he restrained Stiles before he could think twice. Stiles’ pack made to rush into the plant, but Stiles held a hand out, stopping them.

“You’ve seen what this place is like.” Theo was saying to Scott with a snarl. “All the weapons and wolfsbane. And what, we were just going to let him go?”

Scott looked, surprise, surprise, unsure. “Well, I-”

“He’s a threat.” Theo said, and he wasn’t shouting now. No, he was speaking quietly, in a tone of voice reserved for the surest of manipulations. “You have no idea what he is capable of.”

Scott reeled back. “I have some idea.”

“No, you don’t.” Theo said, solemnly, and Stiles knew what was coming next. “Kevin didn’t kidnap me. Stiles did. And he brought me here.”

_Hook, line, and sinker._

“What?” Scott asked, aghast, looking from Stiles to Theo as if daring to catch one of

them lying. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.” Theo said with false sympathy, as he tightened his grip on a struggling Stiles. “Maybe I was trying to protect you from knowing your best friend is a monster. But that isn’t even the worst part. Stiles kidnapped me because for some reason, he thinks it’s his job to eliminate potential threats. He’s a hunter.”

Stiles had to hand it to Theo, it was quite the dramatic reveal. There was all the buildup, Stiles could practically hear the crescendoing music. Theo was probably expecting Scott to double over in betrayal, or have a heart attack, or do something so _Scott-like_ upon hearing the astounding information. Instead, Scott’s brow furrowed, and he looked at Theo with confusion as he said, “I know.”

Now it was Theo’s turn to look confused. And wasn’t that the masterpiece of an expression. Now, far too late, he realized the trap Stiles had set for him. And his face was a mixture of awe, anger, and a special kind of hatred. It was beautiful. Stiles would have loved a minute to enjoy it, or maybe a millennia, but he had neither, because Theo’s grip on Stiles had slackened slightly due to his surprise, and that was all Stiles needed to wrench himself free and turn and punch Theo in the jaw. Theo stumbled backwards into the warehouse, more in surprise than actual pain, and Stiles _bolted_ , out past Theo’s outstretched grip, out, even though Scott was thundering after him, out, out, and into the afternoon air as Derek and Jody each took a wooden door and slammed them on Scott and his pack. Stiles fumbled for his keys and locked the door, not a moment too soon, as a yelp was heard of someone being thrown backwards from the mountain ash. Stiles stopped and took several deep breaths as he heard the barrier being assaulted again and again.

“It’s no use, Scott.” he shouted over the commotion. “You won’t get through. There’s mountain ash around the entire building.”

“Stiles!” Came Scott’s muffled shout. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.” Stiles replied sternly. “You were never going to let me go, Scott. Well now, you don’t have a choice.”

“This is cold, Stiles, even for you.” Lydia said from somewhere within the warehouse.

“What, like knocking Kevin unconscious, cold?” Stiles retorted. “Or how about kidnapping? Theo was telling the truth. It was me. He’s trying to string me up by my lies. Well now, there’s no more lies.” _No more lies, no more lies._

“I get why you’re doing this, Stiles!” Theo said, and damn, he was a good actor, sounding just the right amount of concerned and hurt. “You’re confused! You don’t think you need our help! But you’re wrong!”

“No, you’re wrong.” Stiles said evenly. “But theorize a little harder. You’ll get there eventually.”

And then he turned and walked away, leaving a screaming pack behind, pounding against the barrier. Once he was several paces away, his careful composure shattered, and he gestured for his pack to join him.

“Kevin, grab your sword.” he said. Kevin nodded, still a little dazed. “Everyone else, grab your weapons, make sure there’s no trace we were ever here. Get into your respective cars and GO! Get out of town, don’t worry about where you’re headed, just go, go, go. I’ll let you all know where we should meet in exactly 1 hour. Now go!”

It all happened very fast. No one needed to be told twice as Jody and Derek and Ethan and Danny peeled off to their respective cars, while Stiles, Jackson, and Kevin, sword in hand, ran to Stiles’ Jeep. Stiles tossed the keys to Jackson, who caught them in surprise. “Jackson, you’re driving. Take us out of town. Kevin, get in the back seat.” Both were so in shock at the previous events, they didn’t even question it. Jackson started the jeep, wincing at the primitive noise it made, before shifting it into gear and racing away from the clearing, leaving behind nothing but sunlight and tire tracks and the worst kind of war.


	13. Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, in this chapter we finally get some events from Sam and Dean's point of view. A reminder, this story takes place during the season 8 finale, so that's what's going on. Enjoy!

Ch. 13

Act Two

“Is everyone okay?” Stiles asked some time later, in an abandoned warehouse 30 miles outside of town. Everyone was still out of breath, less from the running, and more from the urgency of the situation.

“Define ‘okay.’” Kevin mumbled, clutching his head, his sword stowed back in the jeep. “Man, I have no idea what Lydia did to me, but-”

“Hey! Don’t say anything about her!” Jackson roared suddenly, pointing at Kevin in warning. Kevin shrunk back, raising his hands in surrender.

“Okay, tough guy.” Stiles said, marching in front of Jackson with his arms crossed. “You and me, outside. You too.” he said, glaring at Ethan. Then he spun on his heel and marched towards the door, leaving Jackson and Ethan with no choice but to slink behind him sullenly. “I’m trusting you not to listen in, Derek!” Stiles shouted over his shoulder. “Jody, I brought in a first-aid kit. Could you maybe check out Kevin?” Jody nodded, and then Stiles, Jackson, and Ethan were outside in the setting sun.

“What’s this about?” Ethan growled. “Him, I get, but me?” He raised an accusatory finger at Jackson.

Stiles ignored Ethan’s comment. “Is there anything either of you wants to tell me?”

“Yeah, actually, I wanted to ask you something, Stilinski.” Jackson said angrily. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“Excuse me?” Stiles asked, not at all surprised by Jackson’s outburst. Seeing Lydia again had to be unsettling.

“You led us to a fight you knew was going to happen.” Jackson said, quieter, but with no less malice. “That, I understand. Locking the pack up in your weapons bunker, well, I can understand that too. But why the hell didn’t you just tell Scott about Theo? Why have me drive us away?”

Stiles sighed, and the setting sun seemed to mirror his exhaustion. “Look, what you guys need to understand is that we’re in a delicate situation. Part of it is my fault for handling it poorly, part of it is Scott’s, part of it is Theo’s. Basically, this is a three-front war. And Scott-”

“-doesn’t trust you anymore.” Ethan finished, looking grim. “He trusts Theo. And he needs to hear the truth from someone he trusts.”

“I tell him,” Stiles said, nodding in agreement, “and it deflates any possibility of Scott saving himself from Theo’s manipulation. I tell him, and Theo’s hooks get deeper and Scott sinks lower.”

“We need a plan.” Jackson mumbled, looking downcast.

“I have a plan.” Stiles said. “It’s just taking some time to get everything in motion. But for it to work, I need you both to trust me. And I also need you both to get rid of your distractions. Now Jackson, I had you drive somewhere because Scott knows me too well. Any place I pick, even at random, would still have my subconscious signature on it. Hell, I’m the one who taught him that. But he doesn’t know you as well. Do you trust me now?”

Jackson pondered a moment, then nodded.

“Okay.” Stiles said. “Ethan. I know you trust me. The fact that you showed up to help at all is proof of that. But back there, you and Theo showed a lot of resentment towards each other for two people who have supposedly never met.”

Ethan stiffened and shifted his feet, looking a great deal uncomfortable. “We may have met.” he gritted out. “That story he told Scott, about how he got turned, he probably wishes it were true. Theo.... found our old pack, around the time Aiden and I had begun talking to Deucalion. Back when we were omegas. He asked our alpha to turn him, and he said yes. Aiden and I thought it was a bad idea, I mean, the guy radiated power-hungry ambition, so it ended up being one reason among several why we struck when we did. We killed our alpha, told Theo to stay out of trouble, and we joined Deucalion. You know the rest. I guess Theo never forgot that we yanked power out of his grasp.” Ethan was calm throughout the telling of his story, tensing every time he mentioned Aiden.

“Okay.” Stiles said. “Okay. This is good. Well, not good, but now we know things. We know what Theo’s ambitions are, and now we’re one step closer to figuring out how he got tangled with the Doctors. We figure that out, and we’re closer to taking down all four of them.”

“You were mentioning a plan.” Jackson said, settling back into his familiar swagger. “Care to elaborate?”

“Yeah, it’s fairly simple.” Stiles said. “Step one: I build an army. That’d be you guys. Step two: I realize I am in way over my head and should leave it to the professionals.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Step three: I drag my brothers here even if I have to move hell and earth- not that hard, actually.”

“That’s not-” Jackson began to say, but Stiles shushed him, his phone to his ear.

“Stiles.” A voice said on the other line, sounding haggard. “Now’s not a very good time.”

“What, cause you’re down a pint of blood and have had Crowley talking your ear off?” Stiles snapped back angrily. Ethan and Jackson looked at each other quizzically. “Yeah, I know about the trial. Thanks for the update, by the way. I had to hear it from Kevin. Kevin! It’s the 21st century, Sam. People can send texts to more than one person at a time.”

“You seemed all tied up with the Doctors.” Sam said. “We didn’t want you to worry-”

“Worry?” Stiles screeched. “You’re closing Hell, Sam, of course I’m going to worry! But the moment you’re okay and Crowley’s in hell, you get here. Okay?”

“Okay!” Sam said, sounding less like he agreed and more like he caved. “Okay. We’ll hightail it to Beacon Hills the moment the gates are shut. Care to tell me what’s so pressing?”

“I.... may have started an interspecies war with my best friend.” Stiles said rather hurriedly. “Call me when you’re on your way.”

“Stiles-” Sam began to say, but he was cut off by Stiles hanging up.

“So,” Stiles said, looking at two rather bewildered werewolves. “I reckon it’s almost dinnertime. Who’s hungry?”

 

Sam set down the phone with a frustrated slam. Great. Just great. He had closing the gates of Hell to worry about, whatever Cas and Dean were doing, the fact that Abaddon escaped, and now, now, Stiles went and started a war. Why? How? How the hell had Stiles and Scott turned from best friends to enemies in a few short months? Clearly the whole ‘Doctor’ situation was worse than either of his brothers were letting on. Sam wasn’t mad at Stiles, how could he be? The poor kid couldn’t get in a word edgewise what with all the trial talk. Dean, though, Dean had been the one talking to Stiles and Kevin the past couple of weeks. He had to have known how bad it was getting, and he kept it from Sam, because he was the concerned older brother with the deadly Good Intentions. Come to think of it, Sam hadn’t talked to Stiles about Beacon Hills in _months_. Dean’s doing, he presumed. Sam was an idiot for thinking that the Californian town would be as quiet as he had been led to believe. Chimeras, science experiments... Jesus, it was a lot for one kid. Well, if Sam survived the next three hours, he would be sure to head over.

Now, though..... now, Sam looked up from the grimy table he had slammed the phone on, to where Crowley sat, watching him intentfully.

“That was Stiles?” he asked, sounding even more groggier and emotional than before. “Your brother?” He looked overcome with sorrow.

“Yeah?” Sam said tentatively, praying for no more ‘Girls’ references.

Crowley gulped. “When I first met the kid, I interrogated him for information. Or I tried to. Only Dean, Dean saved him. The way you boys look after eachother is- is- unbelievable. And, and, I left him alive, you know.”

“What?” Sam asked, intrigued, yet horrified, by Crowley’s display of emotion. He looked close to sobbing.

“This morning, I was going to kill your brother and all of his friends, to stop you from closing the gates. Who have you saved, after all, more than your own blood? But they were working on something so _important_ , and I let him live. I realize, now, that killing him would have been _horrible_ ,” Crowley looked at Sam with a beaten down kind of desperation, “but I want you to know, Sam. I just want you to know that I let him live.”

“Okay.” Sam said, officially weirded out. “Thanks.” He backed away from Crowley with a puzzled expression, then shrugged, turning back from the altar to prepare for the next syringe. He needed to call Dean, and he needed to get to Stiles. But first, it was time for another dose.

 

“You call this dinner?” Jody asked, eyeing her burger shrewdly. “I’d call it a bunch of chemicals.”

“Well this warehouse doesn’t have a stove or an oven.” Derek said, eating his fast food. “So, chemicals it is.” He and Jody sat with Kevin, Stiles, Ethan, Danny, and Jackson around a slowly rotting wooden table under the high ceilings of the warehouse. There was no electricity and night had begun to fall, so while Derek had been out getting dinner, he picked up some candles, which now burned softly around the vast space.

“You know, this place kind of reminds me of your loft, Derek.” Stiles said, in between mouthfuls. “What is it with Beacon Hills and large, abandoned buildings?”

“I’ll agree with you on the abandonment front.” Derek said sullenly, “Because we can’t go anywhere. My loft is probably staked out, your treatment plant is, obviously, out of the question, and once the pack gets out of there, they are going to search your house. Anything incriminating there?”

“Nope.” Stiles said. “That was sort of the point of having the treatment plant. My laptop is in the Jeep, Kevin’s too, and while the chessboard is still up, I took the note, so it’s basically meaningless.”

“So we’re stuck here.” Danny said. “Awesome. You do realize it’s only a matter of time before the pack escapes from the plant, right? Lydia can touch the doors, and Deaton’ll figure out where they are.”

“I know.” Stiles said. “I’m not a monster. I designed a springable trap. But as for Deaton,” he began to stand up, clearing away his garbage, “well, that’s our next stop.”

 

“Isn’t it sad,” Crowley said mournfully after the syringe was pulled from his neck. “how we’re always fighting? Demons, angels, monsters, Winchesters? Everything would be so much easier if we all got along.”

“Sure, Crowley.” Sam said as he busied himself around the altar, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, Sam wasn’t even paying attention to Crowley’s ramblings, they were just so sappy and ridiculous. As he reached for a cloth to wipe his arm with, Sam knocked over a wayward candlestick, sending it rolling off of the altar on to the floor. Sam sighed, then bent down to pick it up, but as he began to stand his back spasmed just below his left shoulder blade. “Augh!” Sam said, grasping the edge of the altar for support as he stood up. He rolled his shoulders, sighing deeply. It had been months since the knife wound in his back had acted up, but how fitting that it had picked today. Sam grit his teeth through the pain as he pressed a cloth to his bleeding arm, reminiscing about the day the wound was acquired. It had been a nice, sunny, New Orleans morning, when suddenly, the world had erupted in pain. All because of a stupid idea.

“This is a stupid idea.” Derek said as he, Kevin, and Stiles stood in front of the doors to the animal clinic. “Deaton’s been out of town for weeks. Why would he suddenly come back tonight? And why the hell would he listen to you?”

“Hey, you got a better idea, I’m all ears.” Stiles said. “But you don’t. Look, everyone else is putting their heads together back at the warehouse. I don’t think Scott’s free yet, but even if he is, there is no way he’d expect to find us here. And as to why Deaton would listen to me... well, let’s see.”

Without another word, Stiles marched into the surprisingly unlocked animal clinic, Derek and Kevin trailing after him. The lights were off in the waiting room, but Stiles wasn’t fooled. Someone was here.

“Deaton?” Stiles called into the dark room. “It’s Stiles. Look, some things have happened, and I don’t expect you to listen to me but-”

Stiles was cut off as the lights suddenly flipped on and Deaton emerged from behind a wall, looking grim with his arms crossed. He was wearing a lab coat, clearly working on something. “Stiles.” he said, sounding like he didn’t really want the boy there, but not at all surprised that he came. “Derek.” he said, sounding a little surprised and even impressed when he noticed the wolf. He analyzed Kevin for a moment but said nothing. “Why don’t you three come back?”

Stiles wasted no time in opening the little wooden gate, allowing Derek and Kevin through before following him. Together, the four made their way to Deaton’s operation room. The stainless steel table in the center was empty except for a microscope, which seemed to hold a sample of something silver and fluid.

“Is that the mercury?” Stiles asked, pointing towards the microscope.

“If you mean is that some of the substance the Doctors use, then yes.” Deaton replied. “But I’m not sure it’s mercury. You aren’t here, however, to discuss chemistry with me, are you.”

“No.” Stiles said, shaking his head. “We’re here because, well, because,” he shifted around nervously. “Because-”

“Because you and Scott are in disagreement.” Deaton said, seemingly plucking the answer from Stiles’ brain. It was unsettling, and Stiles was reminded of why his brothers disliked Deaton. “You are at odds on how to deal with the current threat, or in fact where this threat originates from.”

“Well, yeah.” Stiles said sheepishly.

“For instance,” Deaton continued, “you do not seem to think that you yourself are a threat to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles stopped dead, staring at Deaton with a slack jaw. “What do you-”

“Calm down, Stiles.” Deaton said. “You are not the only one who thinks that Scott is a little misguided. You are the only one, however, who seems to have figured out why.”

“Well, I had some help.” Stiles said quickly, looking to be on the verge of rambling.

“Ah, yes.” Deaton said, scrutinizing Kevin. “Scott informed me of your hunter friend. Kevin, is it?”

“I’m- I’m not a hunter.” Kevin mumbled, uncomfortable under Deaton’s stare.

“I know.” Deaton said. “But Stiles is. And like it or not, with Scott’s pack indisposed, the threat of the Doctors falls on all of you.”

“There’s got to be something we can do.” Stiles said frantically. “I mean, we know next to nothing! And the one person who can tell us things is the one person who can’t be touched!”

“But there is something you can do, Stiles.” Deaton said. “You can keep digging. As of now, the Doctors’ motives, besides death and chaos, are a mystery. But if you find those motives-”

“-we can find out how to stop them.” Derek said. “Sounds great. But like Stiles said, they are untouchable. We don’t even have any bodies to analyze.”

“We have this.” Deaton said, gesturing to his microscope. “And it has more clues than we realized. Now, Kevin, would you do me a favor and get me a bottle of hydrochloric acid? It should be in one of the side cabinets.”

“Sure.” Kevin mumbled, turning away to search while Stiles and Derek crowded around the microscope.

“Now, we assumed that the doctors were somehow using mercury to turn humans into supernaturals.” Deaton said, analyzing the sample. “The only problem with that theory is that countless people have died of mercury poisoning, and none of them have ever turned into werewolves. However, looking at this sample, I analyzed the chemical properties of it to see if it really was mercury, meaning I mixed it with other chemicals to see if it reacted with what mercury has been recorded as reacting with. The properties were almost identical, but in chemistry, there is no almost. Two samples of the same element _will_ react to the same things. It’s natural law. So either the universe has changed overnight, always a possibility, or...”

“Or it isn’t mercury.” Stiles finished, wincing as Kevin clattered around in search of the chemical.

“Exaclty.” Deaton said. “And it got me thinking. If the Doctors can use science to rewrite the supernatural world, then why not use the supernatural to rewrite the scientific one? Why not do so at the very atomic level? No, I don’t think this is mercury at all. I think it’s been _changed,_ beyond description. I doubt the scientific world has a name for this substance, but rest assured, it is very, very dangerous.”

“How do you mean?” Derek asked.

“Well, as soon as your friend finds the hydrochloric acid, I’ll explain.” Deaton said, eyeing a struggling Kevin with bemusement. “But I made a list of where this substance’s chemical properties differs from that of regular mercury. I don’t think that’s going to tell us anything. Since this is a supernatural element, I think the differences are probably random. If the rules of the scientific and supernatural worlds have truly been discarded, then I think we can expect certain things like consistent chemical properties to lose their meaning. However, when I combined the, let’s call it mercury 2.0, with biological matter, I noticed something rather alarming.”

“Found it!” Kevin said, holding a white and rather indistinguishable bottle up in the air proudly.

“Excellent.” Deaton said, holding his hand out for Kevin to pass the bottle, which he did.

“What was alarming?” Derek asked Deaton rather impatiently.

“The fact that your friend, here, was able to find the hydrochloric acid.” Deaton said harshly. “Given that I replaced the label on the bottle. Stiles, I know that you need your secrets, but I wish you would trust me.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, while Kevin looked confused.

“Let me show you.” Deaton said, and he turned the bottle to show the label to Derek and Stiles. Instead of the label for a chemical, which would have probably had it’s name and then some scientific jargon, the front of the bottle was covered in several strange symbols. It was indecipherable to Stiles and Derek.

“What the hell?” Stiles said, snatching the bottle from Deaton and turning it over several times in his hands. Then he opened it and gave a very tentative sniff, scrunching his face up in distaste. “Whoof! That is definitely hydrochloric acid. But what’s with the weird stuff on the bottle. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.” This was coming from a kid who studied demonic symbols as a hobby.

“Very few people have seen it.” Deaton affirmed. “It’s an ancient Native American dialect called Elamite. As far as I know, there are only two people alive who can read this, myself, and the person who taught it to me. So tell me, Stiles, how your friend, who hardly looks like an ancient languages scholar, or of Native American descent, can read that these symbols on the bottle say very clearly the abbreviations for hydrochloric acid?”

Derek looked, if even possible, more confused, but Stiles and Kevin shot each other panicked looks. They knew very well how Kevin could suddenly translate ancient languages.

“Uh....” Stiles said sheepishly. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Kevin is kind of a prophet of the lord.”

 

Back in the church, Crowley was still babbling. “Isn't it horrible,” he continued, “when people betray their own upbringings? Their own blood? I think the worst thing on earth is when brother fights brother.”

“Yeah.” Sam said less absentmindedly, actually nodding his head in agreement with Crowley. He thought about Dean, Cas, Kevin, Charlie, and Stiles, and everything his family has been through. He thought about his arguments with Dean, and Scott’s war with Stiles. He made up his mind. “Yeah, it is.”


	14. Everything Changes

Ch.14

Everything Changes

There were several things Lydia detested. Notable things on that list included spiders, floor-length skirts, being outsmarted (a rare occurrence,) and being lost in the dark.

Right now, she detested her situation.

The sun had long since set in Stiles’ dim treatment plant, and Scott and the rest on the pack seemed to have forgotten that Lydia didn’t have a convenient pair of glowing eyes with which to see, so she was relatively ignored by the red, blue, yellow, and orange irises of her pack as she fumbled bitterly around the walls looking for a light switch. Lydia tripped over something, most likely a bucket, and she cursed, gritting her teeth against the pain in her throbbing foot as she continued on with her struggle.

_Stiles would have remembered._

No. Bad idea. That was not a good thought to have.

But it was true. Even now, Lydia could see Stiles stumbling in the dark, tripping over the bucket that had befallen her, and just about every other possible object on the floor, all the while swearing to Lydia that he would turn the damn lights on. He would flail, stumble, and fail miserably, before yelling at Scott rather loudly to stop being an idiot werewolf and tell him where the damn switch was. Lydia chuckled at the imagery. But then her face fell as she realized that Stiles would know where the light switch was. Because this place was his. And they were trapped here because of him.

Suddenly, Lydia’s limited vision was flooded with brightness. Upon instinct, she brought her hand up to her eyes, squinting through the blindness to see yellow lines of light through the cracks between her fingers. Slowly, and painfully, she opened her eyes a little wider, until finally, she could see clearly, the yellow light was dim, hardly like the fluorescent light at school, or the bright lamps of her home. Instead, it seemed to come from several light bulbs attached to the high ceiling. Now that she could see, Lydia looked around the rest of the room. Not much had changed since the sun went down, Scott had one arm wrapped around Kira’s shoulders as they stood in a circle with a recovered Parrish, Liam, and Brett, yet something shifted out of the corner of Lydia’s eye and she saw Theo along the wall right in front of her, grinning, his hand next to the elusive light switch.

“Sorry to blind you like that.” he said sheepishly. “It looked like you were having some trouble.”

“Thanks.” Lydia mumbled. Lydia Martin did not mumble. But something about Theo, and about the whole situation, unsettled her deeply. He could have yelled before turning on the lights, after all, so she wouldn’t be caught off guard. He could have helped her out. Why hadn’t he warned her? Actually, why was his help necessary at all? Why had he been the only one to see her struggle?

Then Lydia realized that the ‘he’ she had been referring to wasn’t Theo. She took a deep breath, steadying herself and reigning in her thoughts. her turmoil must have shown on her face, because Theo went from smiling to looking worried.

“I’m alright.” Lydia said with a casual wave of her hand, smoothing out her shorts in an attempt to look casual. “Really.” she added when Theo continued to look worried. “I just hit my foot on a bucket, that’s all.”

“Alright, then.” Theo said, shrugging. Lydia tried to get a read on his current emotional state, after all he had just been in his first real pack fight and had tussled with the guy who kidnapped him. But he seemed perfectly fine.

Then again, so did she.

The fight hadn’t been easy for her. Scott told her to stay out of the action so she had to watch as Derek and Parrish started fighting, knowing that she was helpless to stop them. Then she had to somehow avoid Jackson while simultaneously fighting his pack whose alpha was her best friend/Scott’s new mortal enemy. Watching those two tussle... now that had been heartbreaking.

“What are they talking about?” Lydia asked Theo, nodding her head towards the huddle on the other side of the vast room.

Theo inclined his head to listen. “They’re just planning.” he said. “Since you’re the only one here who can touch the walls, but you aren’t strong enough to break them down. Scott tried calling Deaton but Stiles has some kind of cellphone scrambler in here and they can’t find it. They bet that Deaton will figure it out eventually, though. The guy knows everything.”

“Agreed.” Lydia murmured. “I just hope he gets here in time.”

“In time for what?” Theo asked, looking concerned.

“To catch Stiles.” Lydia clarified. “It’s not going to take him very long to get very far.”

Theo shot her an odd look. “Are you sure you want to catch him?”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked defensively.

“Well, he’s dangerous.” Theo clarified, and inwardly, Lydia relaxed. He didn’t know her secret. For some reason, the thought that he would know she had visited Stiles in jail was terrifying.

“He can’t take on six supernaturals all by himself.” Lydia said, and she hated herself for talking about Stiles like this. “He got lucky this time.”

“So there needs to be a next time.” Theo said, scrunching his eyebrows together in thought. Then he smiled a wicked grin that made Lydia shudder. “Hey, besides Scott, you probably know Stiles the best. If he was hurt, and alone, and swimming in desperation... where would he go?”

Lydia detested several things, and one of them was being in situations she had no one to blame for but herself. She had gone to visit Stiles. She had made the decision to side with Scott, regardless. She had chosen to knock out Kevin and remove the sword from his hands. She had chosen to stumble in the dark instead of ask the wolves for help. And now, she had to pay the consequences for her actions.

So she pondered. If she was Stiles, alone, hopeless, with a pack to take care of, where would she go? Except there was something horribly wrong about that picture. Stiles was never helpless. He always had a plan. Locking the pack in his treatment plant had absolutely been part of it, and he almost certainly had a premeditated escape plan. Every damn thing about Stiles Winchester was preme-

“That’s it.” Lydia said in an awed whisper. “He had someone else decide where to go to. And then he went to the most obvious place in the world.”

“Where is that?” Theo asked with unexpected urgency.

Lydia pursed her lips together, thinking hard. Then she told him.

 

“Explain.” Deaton said firmly.

“I’d love to.” Stiles quipped. “But I don’t really think it’s up to me.” He looked pointedly at Kevin.

Kevin looked alarmedly from Deaton to Stiles. Derek just looked alarmed. “Hey, don’t

look at me.” Kevin said with a shrug. “I didn’t ask to get hit by lightning while playing the cello. But I’m not a threat.” he said seriously. “More of an unwilling scholar. Deaton, with all due respect, there isn’t much I can tell you without it taking up an unnecessary amount of our already limited time. Now, I assume you were about to tell us something, and it doesn’t have to do with the acid, so can I put it back?”

Deaton looked, for the first time Stiles could remember, rattled. “Uh, yes.” he said, shifting his attention back to the microscope. “Yes. What I was going to say was that I put a bit of biological tissue in with the mercury, cat brain, to be precise-”

“I don’t even want to know where you got that.” Stiles mumbled. Deaton shot him a disappointed look.

“Stiles, as Kevin so dutifully pointed out, time is of the essence. What I’m about to tell you is crucial. Might I continue without any interruptions?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles grumbled, looking a little embarrassed. He gestured for Deaton to continue.

“As I was saying,” Deaton said with a pointed look, to which Derek scoffed at, “I placed the biological tissue with the mercury to further test its properties, only something odd happened.” Deaton looked unsettled, and Stiles inwardly groaned. Nothing good came of Deaton being unsettled. “The brain matter seemed almost to absorb the mercury. Half of the petri dish had been emptied. But instead of the matter showing signs of poisoning, something else odd happened. I left the sample out while I ran an errand, and keep in mind that this was dead tissue. By the time I got back, some deterioration should have occurred.”

“Well, how long were you gone?” Derek asked.

“Two weeks.” Deaton said seriously. “I only got back an hour before you arrived. And the brain matter should have decreased in size by half. But look.” Deaton gestured towards the microscope, and this time, Stiles could see the grey chunk lying amidst the pool of silver. It was super gross. “As intact as the day I left. It’s been preserved perfectly, probably better than something in a cryogenic freezer. Now, imagine what a whole injection of this directly to the brain can do for a body.”

“What are you saying?” Stiles asked, because he could not, would not, figure this out on his own. It gave him bad images of sharp teeth and metal beams stuck in holes where hearts should be. He would not, could not, think about what Deaton was implying.

“We’ve been assuming that the Doctors are killing their test subjects.” Deaton said calmly, but his twitching hands gave away how out-of-his-depth he was feeling. “The thing that has always troubled me with that assumption is that no good scientist would ever get rid of data until it is 100% unsalvageable. And the Doctors don’t seem like the type to give up easy. I think that this mercury’s unknown properties helped with the chimeras’ transitions away from humanity, but I think it’s more than that. We’ve been assuming that Parrish has been taking dead bodies to the nemeton, but I don’t think that’s entirely true either. I think that when the chimeras’ brains begin to shut down, either by fatal wounds or experimentation, the mercury begins to react, and it is released into the brain, or injected into it by the doctors. And I think this mercury preserves the body perfectly. And under that logic, it could be possible to undo this process, and bring them back.”

Deaton was met with utter silence and a horrible air hanging over the dimly lit lab. Derek looked lost, like this was the straw that broke his connection with reality. Kevin looked terrified yet calm, because in a world of demons and angels, why shouldn’t some freaky dead hybrids get resurrected with some magic silver goo? Stiles, though, Stiles looked broken, as if the crazy world he had been swimming in had suddenly become too much, and he was finally starting to drown.

“Bring them back?” he asked in less of a voice, more of a whispered stammer. “All the chimeras? Hayden, Tracey...?”

“And Donovan.” Deaton said with surgical precision. Stiles flinched, but it was less of a flinch than a shudder that ripped through his entire body. “I believe it’s possible yes, and I believe the Doctors know this and have a means for carrying it out. It would be quite the commotion, the son of a cop, walking through town as a wendigo with a bashed in head.”

“Now, you don’t really believe that, Deaton, do you?” Kevin asked softly. Stiles himself was at a loss for words.

Deaton sighed deeply, and again, Stiles was met with a rare sight. Deaton looked tired, more tired than any exhaustion Peter, the Kanima, the Argents, the alpha pack, the Darach, the Deadpool, or even the nogitsune had inflicted upon him. The Doctors were rewriting more than supernatural law. Their actions were erasing every knowable truth there was. Nothing was as it should be: Deaton was suddenly human. Scott and Stiles were fighting. Melissa was bitter and cruel. Demons were running from the Winchesters. Kevin was suddenly a badass. Lydia was being outsmarted by a chimera. Dogs and cats were living together.

Everything was changing.

“No, I don’t believe that.” Deaton said at last. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief. “Nor do I believe that a scaffolding-induced hole in Donovan’s chest will prevent him from coming after Stiles should he be resurrected.”

Stiles raised himself from his self-induced despair. “How do you know that?” he asked.

Deaton quirked an eyebrow. “I understand that you’re entitled to your secrets, Stiles, but that means that I am also entitled to mine. I assume that, as usual, your brothers are indisposed?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said glumly. “Can’t say I blame them.”

“No, nor would I.” Deaton said truthfully. “This is a mess that not even the best hunters can clean up. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Now, Stiles, you know that after you leave here I need to go free Scott and his pack.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles said even more glumly. “Just- could you not tell them we were here?”

“Of course.” Deaton said. “But what should I tell them? You seem to have come to the realization that someone in Scott’s pack can’t be trusted.”

“Tell them anything you want.” Stiles said. “The more people who know about the mercury 2.0, the better. As long as you leave us out of it.”

“Of course.” Deaton said again. “But Stiles, I should warn you-”

Deaton never got to finish that sentence, as suddenly the few lights in the clinic flickered, something shattered, and Kevin let out an unearthly scream.

 

“We know where Stiles is!” Theo exclaimed proudly to the pack. He told them everything Lydia had said, and Scott followed along with steady nods.

“That’s great.” Liam said dryly. “But first we need to get the hell out of here.”

No sooner had he spoken this, than the lock on the door creaked. Seven heads turned sharply towards the sound, as slowly, a hand pushed open the large, blue, wooden door.

“Deaton!” Scott exclaimed, relieved, once the person behind the door had been revealed. He ran towards the emissary. “Thank god!” Once he got closer to Deaton, however, Scott noticed how spooked he looked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Deaton said uncharacteristically quickly. “I’ve just made a rather unfortunate discovery, that’s all. If you’ll all follow me back to the clinic, I’d be happy to share it with you.” Deaton’s eyes jumped around, taking in the impressive weapons stockpile the pack had sorted through, and the high, vaulting ceilings of their prison. “This is impressive.” he said at last. “Stiles’ working, I presume?”

“Yeah, and we know where to find him.” Scott said. He gestured for Theo to continue.

“The hospital.” Theo said with probably too much dramatic flair. Deaton raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Theo hurried into a logical explanation of plans and premeditating and hiding in plain sight.

“It’s a valid point.” Deaton said once Theo had concluded with everything but a bow, “but if I may recommend coming to the clinic first? The information I have is rather dire, and I will need to show you rather than tell.” He shot Lydia a meaningful look.

“Okay.” Scott said. “Okay. The Doctors are a priority. Plus, Stiles can’t get too far. Let’s go.”

The pack filed out of the treatment plant one-by-one, shooting it stricken glances all the while. Deaton was last, and he looked around with something akin to disapproval. Then he shut the door, and, unbeknownst to the werewolves, locked the door with a key Stiles had given him.

 

“C’mon.” Dean muttered, pounding his hand on the steering wheel in anxiety, while his other hand held his cell phone to his ear. “Pick up, Sam, c’mon. DAMMIT!” he exclaimed, throwing his phone to the empty seat beside him, when he reached Sam’s voicemail for about the seventeenth freaking time. Taking a deep breath, Dean laser focused on the road ahead of him, slamming the gas pedal and driving at well over 70 miles an hour. Finally, he came to the old abandoned church where the third trial was being performed. He brought the Impala to a screeching halt, skidding on the wet asphalt, and he wasted no time in hastily opening the door and running towards the church. He ran, kicking up water, and slammed into the double wooden doors to reveal-

-absolutely nothing except an empty chair and a cluttered altar. No Sam. No Crowley. A broken red devil’s trap on the floor.

“What the hell?” Dean whispered,throwing his arms in the air. By now there wasn’t supposed to be a hell to wonder into! He rested his arms on the back of his neck, and sighed, before doing his best to clear away his emotions. He analyzed the scene in front of him. There were ashes all along the floor, evident of something burning, maybe a dropped candle? There was no blood, though, and no sign of struggle. Dean exhaled. Then he kicked a nearby door with all his might, sending it swinging. “WHAT THE HELL?” he shouted to the empty church.

Predictably, no one answered.

 

Stiles came to against a hard and unforgiving surface. He blinked, steadying his swimming vision, and realized that the reason he couldn’t see was because it was very dark. Then he realized that he could see, only it was just tiny white specks very far away. He blinked again, and realized that he was on the ground outside, those tiny white specks were stars, and he was being an idiot. Also, his head hurt.

“Deaton?” Stiles called out, struggling to keep his voice steady. He wanted to sit up, but the throbbing in his head told him that it would be a bad idea. “Derek? Kevin?”

“‘m here.” A mumble came from somewhere to Stiles’ right. Kevin. “What happened?”

“The lights went out.” Stiles recounted, squinting as he tried to recall. He groaned. His head really did hurt. “I think something broke. I- I heard you scream.”

“Stiles?” Another voice rang out, raspier than Kevin’s, and calmer, too. “What’s going on? Are you two okay?”

“I must have hit my head harder than I thought if Derek Hale is acting concerned.” Stiles said with attempted sarcasm, but it came out as sounding in pain. Which he was. Extremely.

There was a pause, and Stiles expected the verbal equivalent of an eyeroll, but instead, when Derek spoke again, he sounded even more concerned.

“You didn’t hit your head, Stiles. Someone hit you.”

Stiles let that sink in. If he were healthy, and not in pain, he probably would have sat up, run off, and went and killed something. Now, though, the continued pain in his head made the idea of sitting up less than appealing. Instead, he merely asked “Who hit me?”

“If I knew that,” Derek said, sounding annoyed, “I wouldn’t be so worried, would I. But apparently they can also jump a werewolf and a prophet of the lord. You wanna elaborate on that last one?”

“Not really.”

“Stiles, I’m trusting you with my life here. The least you can do is be-”

“You wanna talk about trust, Derek? You picked up and left without a word! We all thought you were-”

“Guys.” Kevin whispered. Now that he thought about it, the reason he was muffled was because of a sharp pain in his chest. “Guys.”

Stiles and Derek didn’t hear him.

“I did leave word!” Derek continued. “I made it perfectly clear where I was-”

“You sent one text to Scott two weeks after you vanished! That isn’t leaving word, that’s leaving us behind!”

“Yeah, which is what you just did to our entire former pack, do you even think about your actions or do you just stumble blindly-”

“GUYS!” Kevin roared, even though it caused him great pain to do so. “Shut up!”

For once in his life, Stiles closed his mouth, just as surprised at Kevin’s outburst as Derek was. That, and the bickering was making his headache near insufferable.

“Something's happening.” Kevin said with a ragged voice, and now, now Stiles’ head was clear enough to register where he was. That wet substance near his fingertips wasn’t dew, because they were on asphalt. Kevin’s breathing was off, Stiles’ head roared, and Derek’s voice throughout their entire fight had been strained. Now, Stiles figured that Derek had been poisoned with wolfsbane, and the wet substance by his fingertips was probably blood.

Awesome.

“Something’s happening.” Kevin repeated, his voice even more weak, his every breath wheezing. “Look up. Look at the stars.”

 

“Boys!” Jody Mills snapped, jarring Danny and Ethan out of their research-induced daze. “Either of you heard from Stiles?”

“No, ma’am.” Danny said reluctantly, shaking his head.

Jody sighed worriedly. “That’s what I was afraid of. It’s just past the two hour mark. We should head to Deaton’s to see if he’s okay.”

Danny and Ethan nodded in agreement, and Jody hastily left the warehouse while the two shut down Danny’s computer. Then they hurried outside, only to run into Jody, who instead of getting into her squad car, was staring at the black sky with a horrified kind of amazement.

“What in hell...” she murmured.

 

Now that Scott thought about it, convincing the pack to meet at Stiles’ treatment plant on foot might not have been the best idea. For one thing, they hadn’t counted on having to make their way back to their cars in the dark. And while it was only one day after the full moon, the thick trees around the plant blocked any extra light it might have provided. The rest of the pack was ahead of Scott, using their glowing eyes to see, while he lead Lydia carefully around fallen branches and large rocks. Well, at least she wasn’t wearing heels. Suddenly, a commotion ahead of them made the two pause. Scott heard Kira yelling in alarm, Parrish swearing impressively, and the wolves making noises that sounded like a cross between a howl and a scream. Scott and Lydia looked at each other. And then Scott made a decision. “Lydia.” he said. “I know you hate this, but I’m going to need to carry you. We need to find out what’s going on.” She nodded curtly, and he swept her up bridal style, racing through the woods. Finally, he came to a clearing, to find Brett and Liam leaning over a body. Hastily, Scott set Lydia down on her feet, then ran over.

“He just appeared out of nowhere!” Liam said panickedly. “Parrish tripped over him! Then we looked up in the sky and saw-”

Whatever Liam said afterwards, Scott ignored it. Bending down, his fingers latched on to the body’s- a man, probably late thirty- neck, and waited. One second passed, then two, and then Scott felt the rhythm of moving blood and a beating heart.

“He’s alive.”

No sooner had the words tumbled out of Scott’s mouth than the man’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up, startling the werewolves.

“Where am I?” he commanded in a deep tone. Scott opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by Kira’s scream.

“Scott! Look up!”

Scott craned his neck up, and his jaw dropped. Beside him, the mysterious man stood up, stepping forward, tears in his eyes as he took in the sight.

 

Dean burst from the abandoned church, a whirlwind of anger and frustration. He tried calling Sam, he tried calling Cas, he tried calling Kevin, Stiles, Charlie,and even Jody. No one was answering the damn phone! So angry was Dean, that as he huffed and he puffed towards his car, he failed to notice the spectacle that hung over his head. It wasn’t until a flash of orange caught on his door that he stopped, craned his neck, and looked at the stars.

“No, Cas.”

 

Sam did not step out of so much as fall out of his stolen car, vomiting onto the wet asphalt. It had rained here. He wasn’t sure when, but it had rained, and that rain had done a poor job of washing away the dirt that clung to this town. Sam took a deep breath, agony seizing him as he lifted one leg, and then the other, out of the blue Sedan he had hotwired. He stood, but not for long. One by one, Sam’s knees buckled, and down he went, landing in a puddle that otherwise would have reflected a sky on fire.

 

“The stars!” Kevin said again, his hysteria sounding odd in whispered form. “What’s wrong with the stars?”

Stiles looked at the white dots he had first identified as stars upon regaining consciousness, after his own idiocy. He was still an idiot. But they weren’t stars anymore. Now, the sky was full of flaming comets, dozens upon hundreds of them as they streaked across the sky, plummeting to earth with a fiery ferocity that seemed to echo Stiles’ screaming head. As he squinted through his black-edged vision, Stiles thought he made out something within the closest comet, something that looked less like a rock, and more like a man in a suit. And suddenly, his sluggish brain made the connection.

“Is this the end of the world?” Derek asked, his voice barely a raspy whisper, as he, too, seemed to be battling with consciousness.

“No.” Stiles murmured. “Angels. They’re falling.” As soon as he made that grand revelation, darkness flooded Stiles’ vision and the throbbing in his head was finally silenced as he fell into unconsciousness, Kevin and Derek swiftly behind him.

 

Lydia Martin detested being carried bridal style. But more than that, she detested when someone else was right. So as Scott was carrying her through the woods, she wasn’t pondering how humiliating her situation was. No, she was thinking about the deal she had made with the King of Hell. _Very soon, you’re going to feel like you need to scream. And you’re going to know who it’s for._ Well now she felt it, the dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach, the dryness in her mouth, a tingling feeling at the base of her skull, and a desperation in her throat, begging for oxygen. And she knew who it was for. Lydia Martin wasn’t phased by the strange sky. In a world full of angels and demons, after all, it was perfectly plausible that a celestial regime could topple. Scott set her gently down on the ground, but Lydia’s steps were shaky as she marched under the sky that marked when everything changes. Somewhere far away, she knew, Stiles and Malia and her parents and the rest of the world were being held captive by this strange sight. But she kept her eyes on the dim horizon, to where she knew someone was about to die. Vaguely, she noticed that all of her pack had fallen to their knees in exasperation. It was a damn shame prayer wouldn’t do anything now. A throbbing filled Lydia’s head, a rhythm of one syllable, a name, chanted over and over and over and over and over again. Lydia joined her pack on their knees, and as she fell like the angels above her, the pressure became too much. She opened her mouth and whispered a single word.

“ _Sam_.”


	15. Worst Case Scenario

Ch. 15

Worst Case Scenario

“SAM!” Stiles exclaimed, his limbs flying senselessly, thrashing intensely at whatever was holding him in place. “DEAN!”

“Stiles, STOP!” Derek roared, not to be unkind, but to stop the hunter from blindly freaking out. “Stop yelling! Calm down! They can’t do anything for you now!”

Something in Derek’s voice seemed to resonate with Stiles’ subconscious, because he froze in place, arms and legs hanging in the air. Then, they lowered slowly, and after a heartbeat of stillness, Stiles opened his eyes.

There weren’t stars anymore. Now there were chains, four of them around his wrists and ankles, bolted to something out of his sight. Now there was a grainy, greenish-yellow light, and Stiles turned to locate the source of Derek’s voice, only for a sharp pang in his head to bring him to a halt. Remember when he said sitting up was a bad idea? Yeah. Stiles wasn’t chained lying down, he was leaning up against something at a perfect 90 degree angle with the ground. A wall? He was inside, then, and his head hurt. He was sitting up, and of course his head hurt, and now that he could focus though his pain, he could see Kevin and Derek on either side of him, each with chains of their own, though Derek’s seemed remarkably heavier, and the awful lighting was coming from dirty fluorescent lights that let out a buzzing noise that made Stiles want to kill them, his head hurt, they looked like the lights in classrooms except dragged through a swamp and speaking of swamp this room had tons of water but it was all in tanks, next to shiny silver tables with straps on them, and, and, and- and a cart full of wicked-looking instruments, oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no oh no no no no he knew where he was he knew where he was he knew-

“I think he’s having a panic attack!” Kevin exclaimed, watching Stiles twitch and convulse with the horror of someone unable to help. Both Kevin and Derek tried to fight through their restraints to get to Stiles, but it was fruitless, and they collapsed in defeat and remorse.

“Stiles!” Kevin shouted as his breathing grew shallower and shallower.

“STILES!” Derek shouted. “Please! Calm down!”

Stiles seemed to be unable to hear them, trapped in his own head, the only sound he was making apart from the breathing and the thrashing was an endless string of “no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no...”

“Stiles!” Kevin shouted again, desperate to get through to him. “Stiles!”

“That won’t work.”

Derek and Kevin whirled to the right as best as they could to see who had produced the new voice. They were surprised to find him there, stepping out of the shadows like every kind of cliche, but they really shouldn’t have been.

“Shouting at him won’t do anything.” Theo continued, walking leisurely towards the three. Instead of stopping right in front of them, however, he turned towards the tables, tanks, and instruments, fumbling through boxes and cabinets. “Have you ever had a panic attack? It’s like being sealed in your own private world. The only things you can hear are the rushing in your ears and the out of control beating of your heart. Right now, the loudest thing Stiles can hear is his heart. It’s deafening. Everything else is soft background noise.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” Derek said with a snarl, shooting worried looks at Stiles every few seconds.

Theo smiled coldly. He had found what he had been rummaging for, a small, purple glass vial, filled with an ominous dark liquid. Now he stood over the other three.

“I was the first chimera.” Theo said. “Endless tests, endless experiences, sharp, pointy things galore. I had my fair share of panic attacks. And what I can tell you now is that Stiles has been through a lot of stress in the past two days, especially for someone with an anxiety disorder. Consider this his breakdown. He could be like this for _hours_.” Kevin and Derek shot twin stricken looks at their babbling brook of a friend, and Theo’s mouth curved in a triumphant smile. “Or, I could end it right now.” he said. Kevin and Derek’s heads snapped right towards him. “I could give him this.” he held up the purple bottle. “Stiles drinks it, and his panic attack goes away for anywhere from 2 to 10 hours. By the time it comes back, someone can bring him out of it.”

“What’s the catch?” Kevin asked, “besides the fact that it’s probably poison?”

Theo laughed. “You’re smart, Kevin. I shouldn’t have underestimated you when we fought at Scott’s house. That window jump was a neat trick. Well, here’s another one.” Quickly, Theo drew out a small, silver knife, and Kevin jumped backwards on instinct, while Derek held. Theo smirked at their reactions, before bringing up his other arm and cutting deeply across it, wincing as his skin sizzled. That’s when Kevin realized that the knife he was using was coated in wolfsbane. And then he realized it was Stiles’ knife. Bastard.

“With the wolfsbane, that’ll take an hour to heal.” Derek said gruffly, not at all phased by the layers of blood flowing down Theo’s arm. Theo smirked again, and wordlessly he popped the stopper off of the purple vial and took a small sip of it. He held out his bleeding arm, and Kevin and Derek watched in fascination as the wound closed by itself, not leaving a seam or a single scar.

“What is that?” Kevin asked in awe. He looked torn between wanting to murder Theo and wanting to snatch the bottle out of his hands.

“Something the Doctors cooked up.” Theo said. “A synthetic version of vampire blood. The real stuff can heal any physical injury permanently. This one.. wears off. My cut will reopen in a few hours. And if I give this to Stiles, his system will be shocked back into normalcy. The catch is that once he’s calmed down, I have you guys’ complete cooperation.”

“What if we refuse?” Derek asked, though the looks he kept shooting Stiles suggested he would do anything but. Their hands were all literally tied.

“See for yourself.” Theo said, gesturing to the mess that was once a Stiles. “He’s suffering, Derek. Trapped, with nothing but his pulsing blood for company. You two can bring him out of it.”

Kevin shot Derek a look of utter desperation. Derek sighed, then gave Theo a curt nod.

“Give him the blood. We’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just please, make it stop.”

It took a chimera to hear Derek’s voice start to shake at the end of that sentence, barely a syllable away from slipping into begging.

“Alright.” Theo said with a satisfied smirk. He took his time bending down to where Stiles was, making Derek’s and Kevin’s nerves burn. With some difficulty, Theo pried Stiles’ mouth open, pouring a large amount of liquid down the other boy’s throat. Then, quickly, he retreated.

The three of them waited with bated breath.

At first, Stiles’ convulgences intensified, to the point where it looked like he was fighting himself. But then, then, something seemed to shift, and it was like a balloon in his chest deflated. He collapsed in on himself in one fluid motion, arms dropping uselessly to the ground, legs stilling, back to the wall and chin to his chest. He was still for one, two, three, four. Then, he stirred, his legs twitching, but more naturally, his arms starting to move, before reaching the boundaries of the chains. His eyes snapped open before squinting, like he expected a headache, but none came. Derek and Kevin watched in amazement as Stiles tested all four limbs for his boundaries, before looking around himself with disdain, nodding to each of them.

“What the hell happened.” he said with a slightly hoarse voice, possibly from the shouting. “I woke up and I was screaming, and then, I can’t remember-”

“You had a panic attack.” Kevin said sheepishly. “It was pretty bad. We brought you out of it.”

“Stiles, do you know where we are?” Derek asked. He and Kevin kept looking worriedly at each other, and sooner or later, Stiles would catch on.

“We’re at the Doctors’ lair.” Stiles said, eyes narrowing once he saw Theo. “It’s the only place where they would take us. And it would explain why _he’s_ here.”

The look of revulsion he shot Theo was so intense, Theo raised an eyebrow in a twisted form of respect. “Hello, Stiles.” he said casually, in a way that made all three captives’ blood chill.

“Theo.”

“My, how the tables have turned.” Theo drawled, as he slowly made his way to stand in front of Stiles. Even for a psychopath, he was enjoying this a little too much. “It isn’t fun, is it, getting kidnapped at Deaton’s. I’d like to say that the symbolism of the parallels was intentional, but I’d be lying. That’s just where the Doctors and I knew you’d be.”

“Is there a point to this, or are you just going to keep talking, because if that’s the case, why don’t you hand me that scalpel over there?” Stiles said, his best attempt at morbid humor, but it fell flat among his companions. “Or better yet, give me back my damn knife.” Theo had practically been twirling it in his face like the smug S.O.B he was.

“I can understand why you want it back.” Theo mused, bringing the knife close to his face as he studied it. “It’s rather interesting. Scott said you’ve had it since you were born, though he never imagined it’s intended uses until recently. Silver, which will kill just about any kind of shapeshifter, but the wolfsbane must be a recent addition, because the look on Scott’s face when Kevin cut me was priceless... it was just the right mixture of anger and betrayal.”

“I’d like to ask again if there’s a point?” Stiles asked dryly, but the worried look in his eyes showed his concern, and he certainly wasn’t fooling Theo.

“There is a point.” Theo said languidly. “My point is that this-” he twirled the knife- “and by extension, you, are at fault for the destruction of your so-called pack. I wormed my way in, I got Scott to trust me, fine. I wouldn’t be able to replace him, though. Not until I replaced you. And it was so damn difficult!” He emphasised his torment by pointing the knife in a way that made Stiles very nervous. “And for a while, I thought it was impossible. Scott forgave your every misgiving- of course, now I know why, and I won’t be making that mistake again- but then you killed Donovan. And then you dragged that secret through the mud. And even then, it took Scott so much convincing to agree to confront you about it, and even to have you arrested. He held on to that image so much! It was pathetic! But then we tried to put down Kevin. And when he cut Scott with your knife, it burned.

After that, it was so easy to make you into the enemy, the big bad human with a terrible secret, because even after Scott believed you bashed Donovan’s head in, even after you revealed that you’ve killed vampires and ghosts before, even after your brothers are the ghost stories monsters tell, nothing hurt Scott more than knowing you had a weapon that could hurt him.”

Theo smiled proudly after his monologue, and Stiles wanted to gag. Then, quick as a flash, Theo’s hand shot out and grabbed Stiles’ wrist, pulling it along with it’s clanking chains, toward him. Before Stiles could ask what the hell was going on, his hand was being forced open and he felt a stinging pain as his own knife cut a shallow vertical line across his palm. Stiles involuntarily hissed, but any words of protest died in his mouth as Theo produced a vial out of thin air, balled Stiles’ hand in a fist, and made him squeeze, spookily similar to something Sam and Dean would do before performing rituals. Now, though, Stiles and Theo watched in twin captivation as the slow drip of rubies from Stiles’ hand filled the vial. Once the amount in it was sufficient, Theo capped it, pocketed it, and produced a long line of bandage tape, this which he wrapped around Stiles’ hand. Before Stiles could voice questions like ‘What the fuck?’ or ‘What the actuall fuck?’, the same process had been repeated with Kevin and Derek.

“Sorry about that.” Theo said with a smug grin and an apologetic tone that sounded spookily sincere. “The Doctors want to run some tests, see what makes you three so special.”

“Come again?” Kevin asked hoarsely. Now that he thought about it, it was odd that he could talk at all, given that earlier his chest had felt like it was caving in. It must have been a trick by the Doctors.

“Well,” Theo began. “You have to realize that you three are an interesting group. A prophet of the lord? The Doctors don’t worship the Christian god, but that doesn’t mean they don’t find merit in the religion. A werewolf who rose from the dead by evolving? Speaks for itself. Then there’s Stiles.” Theo turned his attention to the boy in question, and his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know who the Winchesters were when you kidnapped me. Well now I’m all caught up, and I can’t help but notice that your family has an uncanny knack for rising from the dead.”

“Well, that’s very fascinating, Theo, but you aren’t going to find anything in our blood.” Stiles said with barely-reigned-in contempt. “We have no idea what the hell happened to Derek, Kevin’s powers are even stranger, and as for me? You might want to get your facts straight. I’ve only risen from the dead once, and that was druish magic. For my brothers, it was bad luck and worse morals. I’m only their _half-brother_ jackass. You’re not going to find anything.”

Theo seemed to ponder the information. Then he shrugged. “You’d be surprised what the Doctors have done with less.” he said vaguely.

“What, like taking an already psychopathic kid and giving him superpowers?” Derek snarled. “You murdered your sister! Some of us would kill to have our family back, not the other way around!”

Theo didn’t reply to Derek. He merely stood up, walked towards the hideous setup of the Doctors’ lab, and placed the three vials of blood on a table. Then he busied himself by searching calmly through several drawers, and Stiles was chilled by how easily he made his way around, like he had been among the tanks and the tables for ages. How many times had Theo been down here? How many experiments had he seen pass through? Did he ever watch the procedure done to them? Did he ever pick out the victims?

Did he ever participate?

Suddenly, Stiles’ mind was flooded with unwelcome images of Theo standing over Hayden’s body, or Tracey’s or Cody’s or _Donovan’s_ , a scalpel in his hand and an empty look in his eyes as he cut, slices, and twisted them into something less than human. Stiles shivered, and he was never more sure of anything else: he had to get out of this room. Now.

“Found it!” Theo exclaimed, jarring Stiles out of his dark spiral. He, Kevin, and Derek watched warily as Theo approached them with something small and silver in his hands. A key. Theo knelt down next to Derek, and held the key up to one of many locks in his chains. “You attack, you run, you do anything, and the two humans next to you are dead before you make it out the door. Understand?” Derek nodded, but there was fire in his glare. Slowly, Theo undid his chains, and as they fell to the floor, Derek did nothing but rub his wrists and glare some more. Theo smiled in response, then moved over to Kevin and undid his chains, too. “You two are free to go.” he said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just held them hostage. “I’ve got your blood, I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

“What about Stiles?” Kevin asked, as Derek helped him to his feet.

_Yeah._ Stiles thought. _What about me? I’m not exactly looking forward to being stuck here with Theo. Alone. Dear god._

But Stiles remembered the fallen angels. And he doubted praying to anything would help.

“Stiles is staying here.” Theo said. “Until he helps me with something else. This is your one chance to leave. I suggest you take it.”

Kevin and Derek looked at Stiles, conflicted. Stiles took a deep breath. “Go.” he said reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

_Stay. Tomorrow you’ll find me in pieces._

Kevin and Derek still didn’t look convinced. “Go!” Stiles shouted, desperate to get his friends to safety. His shout seemed to snap them out of their reluctance, and hastily, they ran for the door, and were soon gone. Then it was just Stiles and Theo.

Stiles took another deep breath. “Alright, Theo.” he said. “What do you want?”

Theo crouched down again, so he and Stiles were face-to-face. “You remember the chessboard?” he mused casually. Stiles nodded. “The message I left you, what was it?”

“The nemeton. You want to find the nemeton.” Something else clicked, something Deaton had said a lifetime ago. “You want to bring back the bodies.”

Theo nodded. “Exactly, Stiles. And you’re going to help me.”

 

“What’s your status, Danny?” Jody asked. She was driving her squad car, with Danny in the passenger seat on his computer. Jackson and Ethan were in the back, looking at the bars on the windows with discomfort.

Danny shook his head. “Stiles’ phone must be dead or broken. I can’t get a trace on it. Same with Derek’s and Kevin’s.”

“You really think something happened to them?” Jackson asked, beginning to look a little queasy from Jody’s haywire driving.

“I _know_ something happened to them.” Jody said, making a sharp turn on an almost empty street. “Stiles said to come looking for him after two hours. He doesn’t mess around with stuff like that. Kevin either. And Derek seems like someone trouble sticks to like a magnet.”

“You think it has anything to do with all of those comets?” Ethan asked, also looking queasy. Who knew werewolves were so prone to carsickness? “What was that, anyway.”

“Angels.” Jody said sternly. “Falling. If Stiles’ tardiness has to do with that, well, that would be the best case scenario. But my guess is that he, Derek, and Kevin ran into something ugly.”

Jackson and Ethan exchanged worried looks. Then Jackson looked past Ethan, out the window, to the glistening black asphalt. He frowned in confusion. “When did it rain?”

Ethan shook his head, indicating he didn’t know. Then, when his eyes moved forward, they widened in alarm. “JODY!” he yelled. Jody slammed on the brakes, missing the parked blue Sedan by inches.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, getting out of her car to investigate. “Who drives at night without their lights on? And who parks in the middle of the freaking road?” Jackson and Ethan followed her, and the three approached the car with trepidation. Until they saw the body lying next to the driver’s side.

“Hey!” Jody yelled, running over to the man lying on his side, and turning him over. She took a sharp intake of breath once she saw what she had uncovered. His nose was bleeding, and there were several spectacular bruises from where he must have hit the ground. His skin was flushed strangely, and was clearly feverish. Even unconscious, he was twitching constantly. And even unconscious, Jody instantly knew who he was.

“Ethan!” Jody snapped, and the wolf was at her side in an instant. “Carry him into the cruiser. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Jackson asked. “Scott’ll be looking for us, and his mom works there. We don’t even know who this guy is.”

“Scott will be the least of our problems if this man dies.” Jody said. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sam Winchester.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped. Ethan carried him into the car without further complaint. The cruiser sped away into the black night.


	16. Twilight Zone

Ch. 16

Twilight Zone

Ethan groaned as he and Jackson pulled Sam carefully out of the cruiser. _Jeez, how tall is this guy?_ He absentmindedly wondered as the three struggled to the double doors. Well, not that Sam was helping much. He was out cold, blissfully unaware that he was being carried to safety by two of the creatures he hunts. Ethan and Jackson burst through the double doors of the hospital for the first time in a long time, and both were hit hard with flashbacks. Jackson saw images of faceless people on gurneys, people he had put here as the Kanima, but Ethan saw flickering lights and blackouts, Danny throwing up mistletoe, fights with Deucalion against Scott, pile after pile of slashed corpses after the nogitsune had trampled through. They both shook their heads, and shot each other wary glances before approaching the front desk, Sam’s head lolling in between their shoulders.

As luck would have it, Melissa was the on-call nurse. The bustle of the particularly quiet shift evaporated when she took one look at Sam’s horrible state and gasped. Then she saw who was carrying him and the blood drained from her face.

“Mrs. McCall,” Ethan said, before Melissa could start pestering them, “I’m sure you have lots of questions, but right now, this man needs some serious help. We found him in the street. We have no idea what’s wrong with him other than that he’s unresponsive and feverish.”

Melissa nodded once, curtly, and suddenly she was transformed from a confused mother into a competent nurse. “I need a gurney!” she shouted sharply, and like magic, one appeared. As it was being wheeled over by an assistant, Melissa looked Sam up and down, frowning as she took him in. “Can either of you... sense anything?” she asked tentatively, briefly making brave eye contact.

Jackson shook his head immediately. He had tried, and got nothing but tired and sick. Ethan, however, paused. “Yeah.” he said. “It’s weird. He smells like sulfur, and something indescribable, but it’s almost like fire. He... he smells like he’s being scorched alive. Like we’ll cut him open and there will be ash.”

“Okay.” Melissa said, nodding slowly, her professionalism preventing her from looking worried. “Okay. Internal burning, well, that’s new. This guy got a name?”

“No.” Jackson said curtly, and he grabbed Ethan’s shoulder firmly, turning him around. The two made their way quickly out of the hospital, leaving Melissa with a new patient and more questions.

 

It had been over two hours, and finally, finally, they had reached Deaton’s. Lydia was being awfully quiet, but Scott wasn’t really focusing on her. He was focused more on the man that Deaton was shining a penlight on, the man that had stumbled upon them in the middle of the forest.

“Your name is Castiel?” Deaton inquired. “You claim to be an associate of the Winchesters?”

Castiel nodded, and the room grew that much more tense. Theo had raced off to check on his parents, but Liam, Brett, Kira, and Parrish were still here, and they looked at Castiel with severe distrust.

“We don’t exactly have the best relationship with them.” Parrish said harshly, and Scott wasn’t aware that Parrish was thinking of his old police station and people rising from the dead. “So why the hell should we trust you?”

“Because,” Castiel said with unnerving calmness. “You have no idea of the atrocity that has just been unleashed upon this earth. Thousands of angels have fallen from heaven, it highly outranks your Doctor problem. But if I need to help you to get you to trust me, that is fine.”

The pack stared at Castiel, each analyzing him separately. To the werewolves, he seemed completely human, if odd, and he wasn’t lying. Scott stepped backwards to get a better look, and his heel bumped into something sharp.

“Hey, Deaton!” Scott interrupted, turning around to see that he had almost sliced his foot open on a shattered jar of hydrochloric acid.. “When did this happen?”

“Oh, a cat slipped through my fingers, knocked it over.” Deaton said casually enough, but Scott could hear the hitch in his heartbeat. He could never tell when Deaton was lying.

“Scott, shut up!” Parrish said. He focused on Castiel. “Go on.”

Castiel stared at Parrish with barely concealed distaste. “I can help you find something that you desperately seek. I can take you to the nemeton.”

 

Now, you may be thinking: wow, Parrish seems like such a nice guy. Why’s he being so mean all of the sudden? Well, consider what he’s just been through. He took on not one but two werewolves head to head, only to get thrown to the floor by salt. Salt! The guy had never liked salty foods, sure, but getting burned in the face by a condiment was a little embarrassing. Pile that on top of the stress from the Doctors, and arresting Stiles, the freak meteor shower, figuring out what he was, and his old boss being back in town and on the other side of the conflict, and it would make sense for Parrish to be angry and frustrated enough to lash out at a stranger. Something about this particular stranger bothered him though. It was faint, and fading, but Parrish felt an almost repulsion towards the man who called himself Castiel. Which made no sense. He didn’t know this guy! But something Stiles had said was echoing around Parrish’s head. Something he had said back at the clearing, right before the fight.

_At the rate this day is going, you’ll probably be able to charge me formally very soon. You sorry excuse for a hellhound._

Hellhound.

Why did Parrish get the feeling that was more than a random insult? Parrish brought his hand to his cheek, tracing the smooth skin where there were once angry red welts. It had healed, but it had _hurt_. And right before Kevin had thrown the salt, he said something so very strange.

_Stiles says you’re a hellhound. Well, I’ve had just enough of Hell._

Hell.

Why did Parrish get the feeling that Kevin wasn’t speaking figuratively? When Stiles had told Parrish he was a hunter, he spoke of a war between angels and demons, a war that had gone on while Parrish was still working in Sioux Falls. Angels and demons. Heaven and Hell. What were the actual chances that Parrish was-

“The nemeton?” Scott sputtered, jarring Parrish out of his trance. “You actually know where it is?”

“Of course. I have visited it upon occasion.” Castiel did not mention how this occasion was a meeting with the King of Hell.

Scott stared at Cas in wonder. “Hang on,” he said. “Castiel... Cas! I knew I recognized your name!” he yelled excitedly. “You’re the angel!”

Castiel frowned. He took a deep breath, as if facing an internal struggle. “Was the angel.” he said sadly. “I don’t believe I am anymore. But I know where this nemeton is, and to prove to you I am not a threat, I will take you there.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Parrish said, already zipping his jacket, anxious to get this nightmare of a day over with. He also wanted to talk to this angel.

“Hold on.” Deaton said, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder to prevent him from standing up. Deaton turned around to the pack, a nervous glint in his eyes. “You all are taking this remarkably well.” he said, and it was true. Neither Kira, Liam, Parrish, or Brett had witnessed the demon from a year prior, and only a few of them were ever in New Orleans, but they weren’t fazed. Enough strange things had happened in Beacon Hills that it didn’t really matter if things were human or heavenly. As long as they weren’t the Doctors.

Brett shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things. Satomi wants us integrated with the other wolf packs. You guys needed an extra fighter. I’m more than happy to see this to the end.”

“That being said.” Deaton said, “I’d advise you all to get some rest before approaching the nemeton. We have no idea what we’ll find there. There could be a dozen dead chimeras, or they could have already been resurrected. I would advise strong caution.”

“Okay.” Scott said. “It’s what? 7’oclock? If we meet back here in 4 hours, we can find the nemeton by midnight. Agreed?”

The pack nodded, and Deaton looked warily at the empty space where Theo should have stood.

“Agreed.”

 

The angels had fallen, and where was Kevin? Tripping over tree roots like an idiot as he and Derek marched through the Beacon Hills forest preserve. According to Derek, it had been half an hour since Theo had released them, but to Kevin, it felt like years. Years of stumbling in the dark, of feeling like he was walking around in circles. Years of staring at the sky and wondering what Sam and Dean were seeing, what he could possibly do to help them, what terrible fate was befalling Stiles at this very moment. Probably something involving needles, and cold metal tables, and Theo’s evil grin.

“Stop thinking.” Derek grumbled. “It’s why you’re tripping over so many roots.”

“Oh, sorry.” Kevin bemoaned sarcastically. “Not all of us have glowstick eyes to help us see!”

“No?” Derek inquired. “Then what can you do? Seeing as you are apparently a- a-”

“Prophet of the lord?” Kevin finished. The title left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Trust me, it isn’t as awesome as it sounds. My powers include super nerdiness and ending the world.”

“What?” Derek asked, and Kevin could not see his face, but based on his tone of voice, he was probably very confused.

Kevin didn’t say anything, he merely stared at the ground he could not see with a sour expression. Derek sighed, letting the chill take his breath away.

“We’re almost there.” he muttered.

They trudged along in silence, each broken twig a gunshot in the empty forest.

Well, not as empty as they would have liked to believe.

The nemeton was here. Somewhere. Derek could feel it, like a second heartbeat pulsating in his gut. It was here, somewhere, and it was reaching out to him. Ever since the sacrifice, he had felt the tree like an itch at the back of his mind, and had actually asked Peter about it, who had given the usual cryptic response. Now, though, it was less like an itch, and more like a scream. Derek almost wanted to simultaneously clutch his stomach and his head and just-

“Derek?” Kevin asked, his clipped annoyance vanishing into the dark air as he reached out to steady the stumbling wolf. “Derek, what’s wrong?”

“I-”

Speaking was difficult. The pulsing in his chest was now more oppressive, swelling to a force that was crushing his lungs. Speaking was difficult, but gasping for air wasn’t, if the strangled sounds Derek was making was any indication. He felt a trickle by his ear, and realized that it was dirt, and that he was on the ground, and that there was a root digging into his back, and that Kevin was standing over him, shaking his shoulders and looking desperate. “Derek, what’s wrong?”

“The- the nemeton.”

“What about the nemeton?” Kevin asked frantically, his eyes roaming from the grey dirt to Derek’s untarnished chest to the hands that were clutching it, to his vivid blue eyes.

“It’s here.”

 

The angels had fallen, and where was Dean? Driving like a madman, calling every single phone Sam, Stiles, and Cas possessed, and swearing profusely every time he hit voicemail. He called Kevin, both numbers. He called Charlie, all three. He even tried some of Bobby’s old contacts, and a number that was supposed to be Crowley’s. Nothing, nada, and zilch.

“Dammit!” Dean shouted for about the millionth time, and for the millionth time he had to remind himself that there was no one left to damn. Cas had fallen, Sam was dying, Stiles was surely screwed to hell, pulling Kevin along with him. Doctors.... now, Dean wished he had have been listening when Stiles had called frantically all those weeks ago, instead of choosing to tune him out and keep researching the trials. Because here was Dean, approximately 10 miles from Beacon Hills, going 60 mph, and he was totally unprepared. All he knew was that a bunch of steampunk wannabes had taken over the town, and, according to Kevin, they had an in in Scott’s pack. Which Stiles had been kicked out of. Whose territory Dean was about to drive through. Awesome.

Dean wasn’t sure when it had rained, but the road into Beacon Hills was slick, and, despite his hysteria, he was forced to slow down. There was no traffic, and not many lights on, so Dean let his guard down as he drove through the streets. Which is why it was a total shock when a kid suddenly ran in front of his path, waving his arms frantically.

“Son of a-” Dean slammed on the breaks with both feet, filling the road with a horrible screeching sound as the car came to a stop mere inches from the boy’s outstretched hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean yelled, but the kid wasn’t looking at him. And come to think of it, he wasn’t looking good at all. It may have been the headlights, but the kid looked very, very pale, his eyes rushing frantically like a deer from place to place, his spiky brown hair slick with sweat and his shirt torn to reveal an inky black star on his chest-

“Oh my god.” Dean murmured, and he was at Stiles’ side in a heartbeat, catching his brother right before he keeled over.

“Dean?” Stiles asked, surprisingly articulate for someone seconds away from passing out.

“I’m here, Stiles. What happened?”

Stiles’ head lolled to the side, turning away from the bright headlights of the still running car, his shoulders easily supported by Dean’s forearms. The movement threw an ugly gash on the side of his head into relief, the caked blood sparkling in the light, but Stiles, oblivious to this, smiled weakly at his brother.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”


	17. The Jungle

Ch. 17

The Jungle

_The door slammed shut behind Kevin and Derek, and Stiles watched as Theo almost seemed to relax. Then, suddenly, he looked a great deal more worried._

“Now, hold on.” Dean said, pausing Stiles mid story as he turned his car lights off of their high beams. “He admitted to wanting to resurrect the chimeras? That’s insane! What happened next?”

“Dean, I’m getting there.” Stiles complained. It was astounding how he seemed to have no knowledge of the gaping wound on the back of his head, no wincing as he lied against the passenger seat of the car, or any sign that he was in pain at all. It was like he was in shock, and Dean was afraid to point out the injury, lest the pain begin to set in.

_Stiles heard them before he saw them. The horrible, clanking, whining metal of their costumes gave them away, but somehow they were in front of him in a blink of an eye._

“Then what happened?” Dean demanded, driving like a maniac, and looking like one too.

Stiles shrugged. “They told Theo to let me go. They said they had my blood, they didn’t need me for anything else.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe for a second that they would just let you go.”

Stiles sighed. “They said they already knew how to find the nemeton.”

Dean looked stricken. “Well that can’t be good.”

 

“Derek!” Kevin shouted, two seconds away from having a panic attack as he tried to hold down Derek’s thrashing arms. Then, suddenly, the werewolf was completely still.

“Oh, thank god.” Kevin murmured as he collapsed in relief, just as Derek swiftly sat up. “I thought you were going to have a stroke or something.”

Derek winced, as if that were a painful subject, but then looked around the woods with sharp, beady eyes. “The nemeton’s here.”

“You said.” Kevin said with a little annoyance. “I don’t suppose you’d care to elaborate? Cause I can’t see anything.”

Derek frowned, but to Kevin it looked more like his face returning to it’s natural form. “I can’t either.” he admitted. “Not past you, anyways. I didn’t really notice it until now, what with all of your tripping. But somehow, we have worse eyesight than usual, exponentially so.”

“Well, we are in the woods at night.” Kevin said with a shrug, the loose dirt he was sitting on shifting as he fidgeted.

“Kevin, last night was the supermoon. Tonight would be as well lit as a regular full moon. Forest or not, we should be able to see _something_.”

“What are you saying?” Kevin asked trepidation, and a shiver ran up his spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. For the first time in this half-hour adventure, Kevin was growing fearful. He couldn’t see what horrors lay beyond them, and now, Derek couldn’t either. Wonderful.

“This isn’t natural.”

“No duh, genius. I’m a prophet and you’re a werewolf, and we’re running from steampunk wannabes.”

Derek scowled. “No, Kevin, it’s the nemeton. It’s doing something.” He frowned again, thinking. His eyes moved back and forth without really looking at anything. Then he seemed to deflate, and he let out a small groan. “Christ, it’s obvious.”

“What is?” Kevin asked with an edge of panic, the darkness at his back beginning to look like a menacing wall.

“You’ve been tripping over roots this entire trip, Kevin. You’ve been tripping an unusual amount of times. Actually, you’ve been tripping approximately every ten minutes.”

“We’ve only been walking for thirty.” Kevin said with confusion. “I’ve tripped more than three times.”

Derek shook his head. “I think it’s been longer than that. Something’s been messing with our heads. I can’t see far, I can’t hear much, it’s not much of a stretch to lose a sense of time. But you tripped every ten minutes, over the exact same root.” Derek stood up, and Kevin followed suit, and the two pivoted, taking in the surroundings they could barely see. “I think we’ve been walking in circles.” Derek said in barely a whisper, his eyes glued to the menacing black.

Kevin shivered as he tried to peer beyond the trees in front of him. They had been walking in circles, and he had had no idea. He could probably set out in a confident strut and re-appear ten minutes later none the wiser. There was nothing to indicate that he had stood at this spot before, nothing to indicate where he was in the forest, the radius he was walking in-

“Hold on.” Kevin said, the volume of his voice being swallowed by the air. “Walking in an exact circle in the dark? What are the chances?”

“Zero to none.” Derek grumbled, glaring at the trees in front of them like they had personally insulted him.

Kevin let out a harsh laugh. He couldn’t help himself, doubling over to clutch his stomach as he laughed again, and again, each laugh ringing falsely in the forest, with the brevity of a twig being snapped. He laughed, he laughed, he laughed, until Derek picked him up by the scruff of his shirt and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“What?!” Derek shouted, trying to be intimidating, but really letting slip how much he was afraid.

Kevin took a moment to catch his breath, and Derek shook his collar impatiently. “This-” Kevin took a shuddering breath as he tried to steady his voice. “This whole- whole time, we’ve been- looking for for- the nemeton. And it- it turns out it’s rig-ht by our feet. We’ve been walking around it for the past however long.”

Derek dropped Kevin’s collar, and stepped away from him with a look of disbelief mixed with worry. “That’s impossible.” he said, his brow furrowed. “I- I would have noticed something.”

“Hello!” Kevin snapped angrily. “What do you call that?” He pointed vindictively at the patch of ground where Derek had had his werwolf panic attack not ten seconds earlier. “Nothing is impossible! Not as long as you’re a werewolf and I’m a prophet! Think about it! It’s why we can’t see, it’s why we can’t hear, it’s why this darkness feels less like a shadow and more like a wall. It’s why despite this being a forest full of living creatures I feel at once so hopelessly alone and like I’m being watched. It’s why something feels wrong.” Kevin shivered again, and the feeling of eyes being on him stayed. “So. dead. wrong. Like my insides are curling up into balls and screaming in terror. Something is _dying_.” Kevin looked around himself again, but like he said, it was a wall of darkness. “Right next to our feet, and it lured us here and trapped us here, and defied the laws of physics in the process. Nothing is right! Up is down! We fell down the rabbit hole, and suddenly it’s wonderland. Derek, it’s here. And it’s watching us.”

“Prove it.” Derek said, crossing his arms in defiance.

Kevin smiled sadly. “Okay, I will. When was the last time you were in a forest at night, and haven’t heard any crickets?”

 

Silence.

Lydia didn’t like silence. Silence meant that there were little voices that could be heard. It’s why she blasted music whenever she could, or talked to people a lot, or simply hummed to herself. All to avoid silence.

Silence meant that she could hear when one of her friends was about to die.

Take right now. Lydia was in bed with the covers over her head, clutching her bedframe for dear life as one name permeated the inside of her skull over and over again.

sam. Sam. SaM. SAm. SAM. SAM!

_He shouldn’t even be alive._ The voices whispered. _He should have died years ago, with a knife in his back. He should have died from an avenging angel’s blade in his throat. He should have bled out from the bullets in his bed. He should have rotted in hell for eternity._

Lydia whimpered, and pressed her hands over her ears, but that did nothing to muffle the whisper that seemed to come from inside her brain. She closed her eyes, but that did nothing to stop herself from picturing the graphic horrors the voices were describing. This was the first time they seemed to take a death so personal. _Don’t scream, don’t scream._ Lydia told herself, but it was a battle she was losing. Her throat burned and her chest constricted and her brain positively _ached_... How Lydia had gotten home in one piece was a miracle. Maybe demons were granting them, now that the angels had fallen.

Which reminded her, she had a promise to keep. Lydia hadn’t spoken, not since the whispered name in the field, lest something rise from her throat like bile, but somehow she had to call Stiles and tell him his brother was about to die. Somehow.

_It can wait._

That was a lie. She knew better than to keep the devil waiting, but she was unwilling to let Sam die. This girl, shaking, petrified in bed, this wasn’t Lydia. She was not the type to run scared from forces beyond her control. Holding the sheets with a shaking hand, Lydia hardly recognized herself. She had become such a shell of a person in the last few days, silent at pack meetings, even when Stiles’ fate was at hand. It had been a nightmarish 24 hours, starting with Scott and Liam’s fight, then Stiles’ arrest and escape, then the fight, the fallen angels, and Castiel. 24 hours of hell, and Lydia’s one act of defiance was visiting Stiles in jail.

Well, that would have to change. With some primal strength Lydia didn’t know she possessed, she clamoured out of bed, looked at the clock, and saw that she had a good amount of time before she had to meet Scott back at Deaton’s. With some more of this astounding strength, Lydia put one foot in front of the other, feeling the crinkle of her carpet under her bare toes. Briefly, she contemplated putting on socks, but abandoned that notion in a heartbeat. If she was going to do this, she was going to do this right.

Lydia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing all of her thoughts to trickle out of her head. There was no silence. Instead, the muffled laments for Sam’s life came roaring back at full volume, and, resisting the urge to wince, Lydia listened. She listened to voices chatter about his enigmatic life, call for his impending death, and mourn his inevitable passing. She listened as the voices spoke, and placed one foot in front of the other, down the stairs, outside her front door. Her bare foot touched the wet pavement, and instead of wondering when it had rained, she listened to voices ramble sonnets about life and death and destruction. What those voices said, she would not remember later, but at the time, she was so moved by their message, that her feet kept moving forward, away from her house and towards a breathing body. There was silence, except for the slapping sound of bare feet on concrete.

She didn’t notice the yellow eyes trailing her every move.

 

“DAMMIT!” Jody exclaimed, nearly chucking her cellphone into the warehouse wall, but stopping just in time.

“Sheriff, I’m sure they’re alright-” Danny started to say, but was silenced by a warning look from Ethan.

“We have no idea where Stiles, Kevin, and Derek are, Sam is joining John in the unconscious club, and Dean won’t answer his flipping phone!” Jody said, spreading her arms wide in annoyance. “Our allies are running out!”

“Look-” Jackson started to say, but then a shrill tone permeated from Jody’s cell phone. Four heads turned in wonder as the screen lit up to reveal a single name.

“It’s Dean.” Jody said in amazement. “It’s Dean!” She hurriedly brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Jody?” A tinny voice responded. “You there?”

“Yeah, I am, now where the hell have you been?” Jody said annoyedly. Jackson, Ethan, and Danny swapped glances and all agreed that none of them envied Dean at the moment.

“Trying to save the world, Jody! A fat lot of good it’s doing, too! What’s with the voicemail assault?”

“I’m in Beacon Hills, looking after your brother,” Jody began, clearly revving up for a strict talking-to, “which you already know given that you nearly witnessed me choking on my own blood, and Stiles, Derek, and Kevin left three hours ago to go see Deaton. That’s the last I’ve heard of them.”

“Wait, really?” Dean asked. “Stiles, Kevin, and Derek?”

“Yep.” Jody confirmed, oozing frustration.

“Well, that’s funny.” Dean said suspiciously. “Stiles didn’t mention Derek and Kevin.”

“:What?” Jody asked sharply. Jackson raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“He’s in my car.” Dean said. “I picked him up off of the side of the road. Give me your address. I’ll head to you.”

 

“So...” Dean said once he had hung up the phone, his eyes firmly on the road and not on his injured brother in the passenger seat. “You went to Deaton’s, were kidnapped by the doctors, and watched the angels fall. You didn’t tell me Derek and Kevin were there, too.”

“I was getting around to it.” Stiles murmured, also staring directly out the windshield, his arms curled around himself. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

Dean looked astounded. “You were kidnapped, Stiles! It’s happened to the best of us. Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

Stiles looked sullen. “Theo let them go before me. I told them to go on without me. And now they’re missing.”

“That isn’t your fault.” Dean said. Stiles scoffed, and Dean ignored it. “Seriously. You had no idea what was about to happen to you. Better to let them go then drag them down with you.”

Stiles scoffed again. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy.” Dean said. His mind’s eye disagreed with him, but better that Stiles didn’t know that. “Our job is to save people. That includes our friends.”

“You make it sound like I let go of their hands before falling into a hole.” Stiles said. “But it isn’t that easy, Dean! I am a sinkhole! This town is a sinkhole! Everybody is going to get sucked down no matter what!”

Tears stung in Stiles’ eyes, but he refused to acknowledge their presence. Dean was silent for a moment, listening to the sound of the car move, and Stiles thought for a moment that he had been left off the hook.

No such luck.

“I used to think that.” Dean said, conversationally enough, but there was a hard glint in his eyes that said _goddamn it, I will teach my brother a lesson._ “Years ago, back when your mom died and Dad disappeared, and Jess got killed a few weeks later. I used to think that it was all my fault, that I should have protected you and Sam. When Azazel killed Dad, well, I thought that was my fault, too. I thought that way for a long time, that I polluted everything in everyone’s life, and it was selfish to keep interacting with them. But then the apocalypse happened, and, okay, you can actually pin that on Sam and I, but the scope of it made me realize, that of course it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t control those winged dicks or those demons, and I sure as hell didn’t intentionally end the world. It took me years, Stiles, but I finally realized that people chose to be around me, and I had to respect that. This isn’t your fault, kid. This is a douchebag named Theo and some steampunk wannabes. Kevin and Derek knew what they were getting into, and they’re smart enough to get out of it. I’m sure they’re fine. In fact, they’re probably wandering around the forest like a bunch of idiots, totally fine.”

Stiles didn’t say anything for a long time, letting Dean’s words sink in. “Thanks.” he mumbled.

Dean, mercifully, didn’t say anything else.

 

Of course, Dean was right. Kevin and Derek were wandering around the forest like idiots. They weren’t okay, though. Not by a longshot. It was beginning to sink in that Kevin and Derek were caught in a trap, and completely and utterly alone.

“Okay, let’s pretend for a moment that the nemeton is a sentient creature with the power to take away my werewolf senses, dim our eyesight, block out moonlight, and trap us in a hamster wheel from hell.” Derek said with heavy cincisism. “Why the hell would it do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it wants us to help it?” Kevin asked, kicking the dirt with his toe absentmindedly, trying not to be scared. “Crowley said that the nemeton was being smothered. Maybe it’s reaching out to us?”

Derek scoffed. “It’s a _tree.”_

“It’s a _magic_ tree.” Kevin corrected. “That’s probably beyond either of our understandings. The point is that we’re trapped. It trapped us. We’re doomed to walk around in circles forever unless we figure out how to get out.”

Derek stood still for a moment, and Kevin shifted from foot to foot impatiently. “Derek, did you hear me?”

“Shut up.” Derek said. “I have an idea.” He positioned himself so that he was standing in front of Kevin’s side. “Walk forward.”

“Where?” Kevin asked.

“Just do it.”

Kevin sighed, then trudged forward. He didn’t focus on where his feet were going, just went in whatever direction felt right.

“Stop.”

Kevin’s feet halted on command, and Derek marched over to him, grabbing his shoulders and pivoting him 90 degrees. “Walk forward now.” Derek ordered.

Kevin attempted to lift his foot off of the ground, but it was like the darkness had become tar, and glued his feet firmly to the floor. “I can’t!”

Derek nodded, as if he had been expecting this. “Can’t or won’t?”

Kevin attempted to raise his foot again, battling the imaginary tar, and this time he succeeded. But as he was about to put his foot down, a sense of dread filled him, turning his blood to ice. His foot waived in the air, and the closer it approached the ground, the more the dread deepened. He hastily put his foot down from where it came from. “Won’t. It’s weird. It’s like there’s a physical sensation making it difficult, but I also, with every fiber of my being, don’t want to.”

“Alright.” Derek said, nodding. “That’s the right way to go.”

“What?” Kevin asked, panicking. The feeling of dread was sticking knives in his heart. “H-how how can you be sure?”

“Basic geometry. Any line that’s perpendicular to the circle’s edge will take you to the center.”

“Well how do you know it isn’t that way?” Kevin asked, gesturing frantically to the path at his back.

“Because it’s a magic tree. Obviously the right way is the harder one with the mystical difficulties.”

Without another word, Derek came and stood shoulder to shoulder from Kevin, wincing as the tar sensation began to seep into his feet.

“Obviously.” Kevin grumbled.

 

Dean pulled up to the warehouse and was out like a shot, leaving Stiles alone as he stared into the night sky, a sky that had once been alight with the remnants of angels.

He was being overdramatic. It couldn’t have been more than two hours since the fall. It hadn’t even been twenty-four since Stiles and Kevin had spilled out of the treatment plant and watched the big, full supermoon, knowing what it meant. What a strange day it had been. It wasn’t always the case where he could say that he had gotten arrested for murder, acquitted, fought his best friend in cold blood, watched the gates of heaven shut and get kidnapped. No wonder he was so exhausted. He could feel it now, the need to sleep permeating in his bones. His pillow was practically calling to him. But first, he needed to find Derek and Kevin.

Stiles walked into the warehouse to an odd scene. Dean was hugging Jody, ok, that was normal, but Jackson, Danny, and Ethan were clinging to the wall on the other side of the warehouse, looking at Dean with rapt apprehension. The door shut behind Stiles with a dull _thump!,_ and Jackson, hearing the noise, turned and saw him and then visibly relaxed. Stiles was sure it was less concern for his safety and more the fact that Dean Winchester was in the same room as him.

Jody and Dean separated, the latter mumbling apologies about the hemorrhaging incident from earlier that day, and Jody turned to the teenagers, gesturing them forward. Stiles caught Jackson’s eyes and nodded, and he led the tentative charge towards the pack’s latest member. Once Jackson, Danny, and Ethan were within a suitable distance, Dean held out his hand as a gesture of good will. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” he said as Jackson bravely took it, “I’m Dean. Stiles’ older brother.”

“Jackson Whittemore.” Jackson said, but it came out more of a squeak. Stiles was fascinated.

“Ah, Jackson.” Dean said, not releasing his grip on the boy’s hand. If anything, his grip tightened. “I’ve heard of you. You’re the guy who made Stiles’ life miserable for 10 years, right? That Jackson?”

Jackson gulped, and that was all the confirmation Dean needed. He released Jackson’s hand, and Stiles didn’t think he was imagining the viciously vindictive look in Dean’s eyes. Jackson backed away from Dean very, very quickly, and Stiles’ inner fourth grader cheered. Dean caught Stiles’ eye, and, lightning fast, winked.

Danny and Ethan were even more wary in their approaches to Dean, but he merely shook their hands and politely introduced himself, though he did take a moment to compliment Danny’s infamous tech skills.

Jody cleared her throat, sending Dean a glare that matched her guilty smile rather poorly. “Stiles.” she said. “Care to tell us what happened after you left for Deaton’s?”

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing that he would have to do this eventually. Quickly, he summed up what Deaton had said about the mercury 2.0, and the supposed resurrection powers it possessed. He then described the kidnapping, witnessing the fallen angels, his time in the Doctor’s lair, and his odd escape.

“They took your blood and let you go?” Danny asked with a frown, like he was looking at a bunch of numbers that didn’t add up. “In what universe does that make sense?”

“This one, apparently.” Stiles said with a shrug.

“You had a panic attack?” Dean asked with concern.

Stiles hesitated before answering, partially because he didn’t want Dean to worry, but also because he had no memory of this happening, merely Kevin and Derek’s word. Anything that would have happened to him in between lying in the pavement and being consoled by Kevin was lost to him, probably as his brain’s way of protecting him. But then, he trusted Kevin, and Dean couldn’t be more worried than he already was, so he nodded.

Dean looked slightly phased, but what he said next surprised Stiles. “I guess your kidnapping explains the headwound.”

Stiles frowned, confused. “What headwound?”

“The ocean of caked blood on the back of your skull.” Jody said. “I would have said something, but it didn’t seem to bother you.”

“Let me see.” Ethan said, and he snaked an arm around Stiles’ wrist and pulled him close, angling his head so that it caught the light of one of the candles. Gingerly, he examined the wound, poking and prodding with the occasional sniff or grimace. “It isn’t a wound.” he said, after a few tense minutes. “Just some dried blood. It was a wound, probably almost concussion inducing, but for whatever reason, it closed up.”

“That’s great.” Stiles said. “And know you all know what happened. But Derek and Kevin had at least a half-hour head start, so by all the rules of logic, they should be here by now. I’m guessing that they’re lost in the woods.”

“Derek shouldn’t get lost.” Jackson said. “He knows those woods like the back of his hand.”

“Yeah, well angels shouldn’t fall.” Stiles said, with a bitter edge to his voice that made Dean raise his eyebrows. “We are living in the day and age of the impossible. Don’t underestimate how screwed up everything is right now.”

“Tell you what.” Dean said, eyeing Stiles warily. “Why don’t Jody and I pull up a map of the woods, and do our best to plot where Kevin and Derek could be based on the locations you gave us. In the meantime, you should rest, Stiles. We’ll leave in about an hour.”

Stiles checked his watch, and saw that it was 10 o’clock. “Sounds good.” he said. He turned his back on the group, and readied himself to search the warehouse for a good resting spot.

“Wait.” Dean said, and Stiles stopped, his foot raised in mid-air, his back to Dean’s deepening frown. “You were right, when you said I might not believe you if you told me. It’s an impossible story. There’s no way they would go through all the trouble to kidnap you just to let you go without some kind of ultimatum. Stiles, what aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing.” Stiles said, but he was sure that even Danny could hear the skipped beat in his heart. “Nothing.” he said again, this time with more conviction. He had his back to Dean, but he could feel the moment where his brother gave up trying to glare the information out of him and decided to leave well enough alone.

“Alright.” Dean said. “Rest. I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

 

Each step was agony, a physical and mental battle that put Kevin’s body at war with itself, but soon, it would all be worth it. Soon, they would find the nemeton, and- and what? Kevin wasn’t sure. They had no way of leading others to it, nor did they know what to do about the bodies they would find there. But Kevin knew that he and Derek _had_ to keep fighting, _had_ to get to the tree. It was a feeling deep in the pit of his gut that made him able to put one foot in front of another through the blackness even though his mind and body were screaming for him not to. It didn’t matter. The tar at his feet or the ice in his veins, none of it mattered. He was getting close. He could feel it.

 

Kevin and Derek couldn’t see, but Scott McCall could. He just chose not to. Scott, like Kira, Liam, Mason, Brett, and Parrish, were trying and failing to sleep off their post-fight adrenaline crashes, waiting for their four hours of rest to be up.

 

Cas had stayed behind at the animal clinic, and he and Deaton were engaging in what could only be described as a staring contest.

 

Lydia was channeling her inner Green Day as she continued to walk down her lonely road, unaware of her yellow-eyed follower as the voices in her head grew more incessant.

 

Sam was out cold, unaware of the damage ravishing his body.

 

Dean, Jody, Ethan, Danny, and Jackson were pouring over a map, while Stiles’ heart beat unevenly in another part of the warehouse.

And Theo? Well, the smug bastard was grinning like an idiot as his mind poured over the day’s events.

_“What do you mean, you’re letting him go?” Theo demanded, staring down The Surgeon with ferocity._

_“We- have- his- blood. His- presence- is- useless.” The Surgeon said._

_“We can’t just let him go! He’s useful! He’s too dangerous to escape!”_

_The Surgeon did not relent, staring back at Theo with unnerving stillness, until Theo deflated in defeat._

_“Alright!” he snapped, fumbling for the keys to Stiles’ chains. As he bent down to undo them, he leaned forward so he could speak to Stiles without the Doctors overhearing. “This is a mistake, Stiles.” he muttered, as the chains fell from Stiles’ wrist. “We both know it. I’ll be seeing you very soon. I’m thinking midnight. In the heart of the jungle.”_

_Stiles stood up, giving no indication that he had heard Theo as he marched towards his freedom. But he wasn’t looking at him either, his eyes dead set on the door. Theo smirked, knowing he had won this round. Now, it was Stiles’ move._

Stiles bolted upright, not five minutes after he had lain down. He had lied to Dean because he didn’t want him to worry, but now it was all starting to make sense.

_The heart of the jungle._

Theo definitely wasn’t referring to the old gay bar. No, there was really only one thing that fit that description, and the answer was painfully obvious. He checked his watch again. Good. He had time.

_The jungle._

Midnight.


	18. Highly Suspect

Ch. 18

Highly Suspect

Lydia opened her eyes to find Melissa McCall staring at her with horrified wonder. It took her a moment, but the flourescent lights and permanent medical smell told Lydia that she was at the front desk of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. And Melissa was still staring at her strangely.

“Lydia, are you alright?” Melissa asked, eyeing Lydia’s bare feet, grey sweatpants, short-sleeved white shirt, and unkempt hair with worry. “Is this a banshee thing?”

“Um.... yes.” Lydia said, because really, what other explanation could she give. It just hit her how clinically insane she probably looked at the moment. Lydia cleared her throat. “Yes it is. Have there been any strange patients brought in tonight?”

Melissa looked stricken, warring between helping Lydia and keeping her patient’s confidentiality. Helping the banshee eventually won out. “Follow me.” she said softly, and she swiped a keycard from her desk before turning and walking swiftly down a hallway, gesturing for Lydia to follow. “Lydia, I know you’re one for dramatics, but why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

Lydia fell into step beside Melissa, ignoring the strange looks the other hospital employees were giving her. She shrugged. “It felt right.”

“It felt right?” Melissa halted at a random door and looked exasperatedly towards the ceiling, as if the flaking plaster held all the answers as to why Beacon Hills was filled with so many strange teenagers. She shook her head. That question needed more than a few seconds of quasi-prayer to answer. “Anyway, here’s his room. We’ve got no name on the John Doe, but he’s six-foot-four, strong built, and has been unconscious since he was brought in a couple of hours ago. His body has been severely damaged, probably more than our machines and doctors can pick up, and his brain is in a coma as the body is trying and failing to heal himself. He’s in bad shape. If you’re here for him, well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.”

Lydia nodded absentmindedly. Six-foot-four sounded like Sam. And if she wanted to scream for him it would make sense that he had some horrible, undetectable injury. Melissa was about to use her keycard to unlock the door, but Lydia raised a hand, stopping her. “This isn’t just his room.” she said, staring at the placard on the door. “Is it?”

“No.” Melissa said, shaking her head with a sad smile. “Space is a little tight at the moment. So we put him up with our other most recent patient.” Melissa unlocked the door, to reveal two patients with side-by-side respirators, in side-by-side comas. “You might recognize Sheriff Stilinski.

“Jesus.” Lydia whispered, as she entered the hospital room, looking at Sam and the Sheriff, so washed out and broken. If Stiles could see them now, his brother and his father, lying side-by-side like this, well, he’d be heartbroken. It took the force of a train to take down Stiles Stilinski, but this might just do it.

Lydia could kill whoever had caused this.

“Lydia? Lydia?” Melissa asked, waving her hands in front of Lydia’s face, and the banshee realized that she had been spaced out for almost a minute, staring at Sam and the Sheriff. “I lost you for a moment. Lydia, is this him?”

Quickly, Lydia nodded. The closer she got to him, she could feel the aura of death clinging to him. His body was so damaged. He was barely alive. “How did he get here?” she asked, in barely a whisper. “How did he get like this?”

Melissa shook her head. “I have no idea what happened to him. His hand’s been sliced open enough to scar, and he’s missing about a liter of blood, not to mention several old bullet and knife wounds, but nothing on his body suggests anything that could be fatal. As for how he got here,” Melissa gulped, and she paled. Lydia raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t often that Mrs. McCall looked afraid. Then again, it had been a rollercoaster of a few days. “He was carried in here. By Jackson and Ethan. Lydia, did you know those two were back in town?”

Lydia debated lying, but then decided she wouldn’t hurt Mrs. McCall anymore. Slowly, she nodded. “Stiles brought them into town.” she said. “We fought them a couple hours ago.”

Melissa groaned. “Add that to the list of things my son hasn’t told me.”

Lydia chuckled lightly, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Sam. The Prodigal Son. The Boy King. The Broken Winchester. Stiles had sung praises to her about his older brother Dean, but he had _gushed_ about Sam. How strong he was. How brave he was for getting away from John. How Sam would drive up from Palo Alto during Stanford school breaks to stay in Beacon Hills because the prospect of tracking down Dean was too painful. Once, he had even brought Jess with him. And Stiles had loved her, and Sam had shown him the ring. That was during his fall break, ten days before November 2nd. When Stiles told Lydia that story, she had cried. Which reminded her.

“Melissa, can I borrow your cell phone?”

Melissa looked surprised, but nevertheless reached into her scrubs pocket and pulled out her phone, placing it into Lydia’s outstretched palm. “Might I ask why?”

“Because if I call him from my phone, he won’t believe me.”

Melissa still looked puzzled, but Lydia ignored her as she punched in the numbers, then brought the phone up to her ear as it rang.

“Hello?”

The voice that answered definitely wasn’t Stiles.

“Theo?” Lydia asked incredulously. “Why do you have Stiles’ phone?”

“Why are you calling him?” Theo retorted rapidly.

The two were silent for a moment, the stalemate hanging between them.

Lydia couldn’t take it anymore. She was, after all, in a hurry. “I have some news on his dad.” she lied, though she wished it were true. “Some banshee feelings. I figured enemy or not, he has a right to know.”

“Fair enough.” Theo said. “Stiles must have dropped this on his way from the treatment plant. I found it outside. I figured it might be a good move to hold on to it.”

“Why didn’t you tell Scott?” Lydia challenged.

“I did. He didn’t like it, but he seemed to agree it was for the best.”

“Did you glean anything interesting off of it?” Lydia asked. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but she had to at least act like she was on a side before she got around to actually picking one.

“Yeah. Some guy in his contacts labeled ‘Dean’ has called about 70 times. Before that, Sheriff Jody a few times, as well as Danny, Ethan, and Jackson. Also some guy named Sam. His contact has devil horns next to his name.”

Lydia glanced down at the comatosed man at her feet. Leave it to Stiles to find the humor in every situation.

“Sam and Dean are his brothers.” Lydia said. Now that Theo knew Stiles was a hunter, there was no harm in her fleshing out some other details. After all, once she decided to side with Scott, he would be her teammate, too. “I guess they’re worried about him.”

“Yeah, but why is his own pack calling him?” Theo inquired eagerly. “Especially after the fight? This means they split up! It’ll make them harder to find, but it might give us more insight as to their motives.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Lydia said, but her heart wasn’t in it at all. Beside her, Melissa looked confused but calculating, indicating that she wouldn’t be confused for very long.

“Speaking of contacts,” Theo said, and the pretense was innocent enough, but Lydia’s stomach plummeted, “the one for this number indicates that you’re calling from Scott’s Mom’s phone. Are you at the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Stiles there?”

“You know he isn’t. I know he isn’t. The rest of the pack, however, is none the wiser because you lied to them! Why did you tell them Stiles might be here?”

“I’m not sure.” Theo said in the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “I know you said he would go to Deaton's after getting someone else to drive him, but I was worried Scott would get suspicious of you.”

“I can handle myself.” Lydia assurted.

“I know you can.” Theo reassured, “and I’m sorry. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? We went to Deaton’s and Stiles wasn’t there.”

“Not at the time.” Lydia challenged. “But that is where you found his phone.”

For once, Theo was silent, patiently waiting for Lydia to continue her theory.

“Stiles isn’t stupid.” Lydia said, and she had to work hard to keep the pride out of her voice. “The battle at the treatment plant might have unnerved him, yeah, but that’s also where he would be at his most vigilant. There’s no way he would do something as leave something that important for us to find minutes after he committed one of the worst betrayals of all time. So, no, there’s no way you found it there, and there’s no way the rest of us would have missed it.”

“You got me.” Theo said. “Yeah, I doubled back to Deaton’s just before checking on my parents, before the rest of you guys were there. I was only there for like five seconds, I swear, just to see if I could catch him. He must have just left.”

“Okay.” Lydia said. She believed him. Theo would totally lie about his destination plans just so he could catch Stiles, and at that point, Stiles would be that lax enough to leave his phone behind in a place that was supposed to be safe. He might have even done that on purpose. “Sorry to bother you. I guess I’ll see you at 11, then.”

“See you at 11.” Theo said, and he hung up, leaving Lydia simultaneously relieved and unsettled. She had caught Theo in a white lie, and had him explain why he had covered for her in the first place, but how long before she was in the same situation? If Scott found out about her visiting Stiles in prison, or of her doubts of him being the enemy...

“Lydia?” Melissa asked. “Can I ask what that was about?” Lydia was just about to open her mouth to reply when she was cut off by the shrill sound of Melissa’s pager. “Shoot! I’ve got to take this!” Melissa said, glancing at it quickly. “There’s someone at the front desk. Close the door behind you when you finish your banshee stuff, alright? And I’d appreciate my phone back before you leave.”

“Of course.” Lydia said kindly. Melissa smiled, and was about to make her way out the door, when Lydia’s arm shot out, grabbing the nurse’s wrist, stopping her. Melissa looked down at Lydia’s strong grip in shock.

“Lydia-”

“Mrs. McCall, I was followed here.” Lydia said sternly, and she remembered seeing the glowing yellow eyes behind her in the mirrors of every car she had passed. “By a werewolf. Be careful. That may be who you’re about to deal with at the front desk.”

Melissa looked spooked, but due to her incredible resolve, she merely nodded curtly before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Lydia sighed, closing her eyes in frustration. She hadn’t been able to reach Stiles, but she needed to tell someone about Sam. Luckily, she had that number memorized, too. Hastily, she began to dial.

_This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone._

“Dean, this is Lydia Martin.” Lydia began. “I’m a friend of Stiles. I tried to call your brother, but I think you’ll find that he doesn’t have his phone.” There, that was good, she established that she knew of Stiles’ familial relationships, in case Dean didn’t know who she was. She also didn’t say who had Stiles’ phone, meaning she was still loyal to Scott. “Well, I’m calling because I’m at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, and I’m standing next to Sam’s bed. He can’t come to the phone right now. You’ll find him in the Sheriff’s room. I won’t let anything happen to him, but I suggest you hurry.”

_There._ Lydia thought, as she hung up. _That should be okay. It was vague, so not many people would understand the message, no last names, no indication that the sheriff in question was Stiles’ dad, no room number, and no specific date and time. With luck, Dean won’t think it’s a trap._

Lydia applauded herself for her forward thinking. But then she sobered up. Because she _had_ been followed, and whoever it was could be hostile, and Melissa could be dealing with them right now. Not to mention that she had to be back at Deaton’s in- she checked Melissa’s phone- thirty minutes.

Lydia took one last look at the sheriff, for whom she could do nothing, and one last look at Sam. She hadn’t been lying when she told Dean that nothing would happen to him. She wasn’t going to scream. She was hell-bent on it.

Lydia exited the hospital room, closing the door behind her. Then, with the tiles cold on her bare feet, she turned, and began to make her way down the corridor with which she came. The person who had followed her was a werewolf. They weren’t planning on killing her, they had already had loads of opportunities. They could still be dangerous, though. But Lydia Martin was not helpless, not anymore. She was a far cry away from the girl Peter had bitten on the lacrosse field, from the girl holed up in fear in this very hospital as something she barely understood changed her forever.

Lydia Martin detested not knowing things.

But now she did know things, and she wasn’t helpless anymore. Parrish had taught her how to fight, and Stiles had taught her how to fight the supernatural. She was ready. She didn’t have any weapons on her, but that was okay, she was ready.

Well, she thought she was. Lydia rounded the corner, back into the reception area of the hospital, ready to face her shadowy adversary. Instead, she was facing Melissa’s back. She was right. The person who had followed Lydia was the one Melissa was paged to talk to. She was right. But she was so, so wrong. Because the person who followed her wasn’t an enemy at all. Not by a longshot. Lydia looked him over as he consulted animatedly with Mrs. McCall. His lanky build came a dime a dozen, but that curly hair and happy smile were one of a kind. Lydia took a tentative step forward, and despite being all the way across the busy lobby, he heard her in an instant, of course he did. His head snapped up, and they locked eyes. Melissa turned around to see Lydia, and gestured for her to come closer. Lydia wasted no time. She raced across the lobby, her bare feet slapping across the ground, and enveloped the werewolf into a hug so strong she nearly tackled him.

“Woah, Lydia, easy!” Isaac said with a sheepish laugh, as he stumbled, trying to keep the two upright. “I didn’t think you’d be that happy to see me, what with me following you around like some creep.”

“You had your reasons.” Lydia said, her voice slightly muffled by Isaac’s shirt, and out of the corner of her eye Lydia saw Melissa crack what must have been her first real smile in days. This strengthened her resolve, and she clung on to Isaac even tighter. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She meant it. With every fiber in her being, she meant it. She and Isaac hadn’t been close, what with her rejecting him that one time, him poisoning her that other time, and him spending most of his time with Allison once he was part of the pack ,but right now, there was no one else in the world she would rather see.

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m here, too.” Isaac said, and Lydia finally released him. The two stepped back, and Isaac looked at Melissa a little awkwardly. “Um... I’m sorry to hear about the Sheriff. And Scott.”

“Oh.” Melissa said, taken aback. “Thank you. I’m sorry about-” she stopped speaking, but all three of them knew that the words ‘New Orleans’ were on the tip of her tongue.

Isaac, patron saint of kindness that he was, merely shrugged it off. “Thanks.”

“Mrs. McCall, I think Isaac and I are going to go.” Lydia said, placing her cell phone on the desk. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“Anytime.” Melissa said automatically, and Lydia wondered if that would still be true when she got around to picking a side. “Lydia,” Melissa continued, “that man. Did you know him?”

“No.” Lydia said, and it didn’t feel like a lie. She had only met Sam twice. And lying unconscious, helpless, in a hospital bed, she didn’t recognize him. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help. I have no idea what’s wrong with him, just that it’s bad.” It was true. The voices weren’t telling her anything. She had even touched his hand, and nothing. “Did Jackson and Ethan say anything when they brought him in?”

Isaac stiffened when the names were mentioned, and she shot him a look indicating that she would explain later.

Melissa nodded, and for a second, she looked haunted. “They said that he smelled like he was being scorched alive.” she repeated. “Like we could cut him open, and there would be ash.”

“Okay.” Lydia said quickly. _That’s new._ “Thanks, Mrs. McCall!” Before Melissa could blink twice, Lydia grabbed Isaac’s hand, and raced out of the hospital like the building was on fire.

“You want to explain what’s going on, Lydia?” Isaac asked once the two were outside. He looked at Lydia’s bare feet quizzically.

Lydia huffed in displeasure. “It’ll take a long time. We might as well start walking.” She gestured to the way she had come from. Isaac nodded, and the two began to make the walk back to Lydia’s house. “It’s a long story.” Lydia said. “And I’m pretty sure that I don’t know most of it. But something’s wrong with Beacon Hills, Isaac. Really wrong. You picked the worst time possible to come back.”

“Why?” Isaac asked.

“Because now you have to pick a side.”

 

Theo Raeken closed Stiles’ phone, and looked up to where Scott stood directly across from him, outside of Deaton’s clinic. Scott’s mouth was in a thin, grim line, and he looked at Theo with resigned appreciation.

“You lied?” Scott asked, “About where Stiles would go?”

“Yeah.” Theo said, eyes downcast in a humble apology. “I’m sorry. It felt like the right thing to do at the time. But why didn’t you check out the hospital, anyway?”

“I did.” Scott said. “I called my mom. She said he wasn’t there. And it turns out he was at Deaton’s! Theo, I’m not mad. But I need to know I can trust you.”

“Of course, Scott.” Theo said softly. “You can trust me. I was only looking out for Lydia. I’m worried about her.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked quickly, his eyes sharpening with worry.

Theo sighed, shooting Scott a pained look, like he knew that the information he was about to say could hurt him. “I’m not sure, about Lydia. I’m not sure we can totally trust her.”

Scott’s mouth dried. “What do you mean?” he repeated. He could always trust Lydia.

Now it was Theo’s turn to look grim. “How did she know where Stiles would go after the fight? Down to having someone else drive away? Scott, you’re supposed to know Stiles better than anyone, and you didn’t figure it out.”

“Uh-” Scott struggled to find words, because this couldn’t be true. No way. Lydia had fought with them! Lydia has been at his side for years! “Lydia’s smart. If anyone could figure out something like that, it’s her.”

“If anyone could figure out Stiles?” Theo prompted. “She knows him well. Very well, in fact. The way she analyzed him was spot on. Maybe they’re closer than you think. Maybe she would choose him over you.”

Scott shook his head furiously. “No, she wouldn’t side with a killer. She’s better than that.”

Theo frowned. “I’m sure you’re right. I haven’t known Lydia for very long, but she’s probably the smartest person on the planet. And she’s kind, too, even if she doesn’t let you see it. But Scott, Stiles has seven people on his side convinced that he isn’t a killer. We all know that he killed Donovan with that wrench, but they, even the good people, seem to believe otherwise. Maybe he has Lydia fooled!”

Scott scoffed. “No. No one fools Lydia.”

“You sure about that?” Theo asked. “Because the alternative is that Lydia knows exactly who she’s sided with, and she might even be Stiles’ spy.”

Scott shook his head again. “No. Lydia wouldn’t do that.” But already the resolve in his voice is weakening.

Theo looked like his heart was breaking for Scott. “I want to believe that. I do. But Scott,” he raised the cell phone in his hand. “She just called him.”

Scott’s heart tugged. The evidence was convincing. But he wasn’t ready to believe yet. “She- she explained that.” he said, but even to himself, he sounded weak. “She was just letting him know about his dad.”

Theo looked disheartened. “Scott, I want to believe that as much as you do, but something’s not right. I told her I had Stiles’ phone. She should have been happy to have something against him. But her heart clearly wasn’t in it at all. You heard her!”

“It’s complicated!” Scott said. “We’re fighting against our own pack, our friends! We don’t just automatically hate our enemies! Some of us still care for them! Some of us still-”

“-love them?” Theo finished. Scott’s shoulders slumped down in despair, and he nodded. “I know how Stiles feels about Lydia. I know that’s really why he broke up with Malia. Did you ever think that maybe Lydia feels the same way?”

“She doesn’t.” Scott said. “Lydia doesn’t do mind games. She would put Stiles out of his misery.”

“Scott, would you do anything for Kira?” Theo challenged, the mischievous glint in his eyes hidden by layers of false pity. Scott nodded. “Even if the world were out for her head, would you still protect her?” Scott nodded again. “Well, what’s to say Lydia doesn’t feel that way about Stiles? Maybe she’s conflicted. Maybe she hasn’t picked a side. Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

“No, I know Lydia!” Scott shouted. “She’s with us! She has to be! You have to believe me!”

Theo analyzed Scott with a frown on his face. “I believe that you believe it.” he conceded. “But I still think something’ wrong. I still think she’s hiding something. If something else goes wrong, well, Lydia is our only suspect.”

Scott nodded. “I understand. Thank you for confiding in me.” He glanced at his watch. “Everyone should be here in 15 minutes. I suppose we’ll find out then.”


	19. Midsummer Nightmare

Ch. 19

Midsummer Nightmare

_The heart of the jungle. Midnight. The jungle. Midnight. The heart of the jungle. Midnight._

The words echoed around Stiles’ skull like a drum, pulsing to the rhythm of his heart. It had been fifteen minutes since Dean had sent him to lie down, and in fifteen more, he would only have an hour to make good on Theo’s promise. His bones chilled at the thought of willingly meeting with that slimy snake for a human being. Oh, but wait. He wasn’t quite human, was he.

_The jungle. Midnight. The heart of the jungle. Midnight. Kevin. Derek. The jungle. Midnight._

Stiles bolted upright, his back ramrod straight as his heart was suddenly beating out of his chest. _Of course._ It was all starting to make sense now! Why Theo wanted to meet where he did, and where Kevin and Derek were. Well, it didn’t exactly ‘make sense’ in the conventional term. More like some puzzle pieces in his brain were starting to look like there was the slightest chance that they might fit together. Stiles didn’t know anything for certain. But he did know that he needed to get out of this warehouse, now, and he couldn’t have anyone follow him. Stiles stood up, casting aside his makeshift bed. It would take some work, what with two werewolves and an older brother out to protect him, but Stiles was confident he could do it. He wasn’t called a fox for nothing.

 

Jackson and Danny were chatting downstairs, catching up on their time apart while Dean, Jody, and Ethan studied a map of Beacon Hills. Jackson was in the middle of telling the story of a particularly humorous werewolf he had come across in London, when a loud thump caused him and Ethan to go still. Their eyes met across the warehouse. “Um, did anyone hear that?” Jackson asked tentatively. Jody and Dean stopped talking and turned to look at Jackson with confusion.

“Hear what?” Dean asked with a furrowed brow.

“There was this thump-” Ethan started to say, but he was cut off by another noise, this time within the hearing range of humans.

It was the familiar sound of an engine turning over.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed, dropping the map he was holding and racing out into the night, but he was too late. By the time he got outside, the headlamps of the Impala were receding, as Stiles drove his beloved baby away.

 

“11.” Theo said, glancing at his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. “Everyone should be here soon.”

No sooner had he spoken than a big, pale brown truck pulled up in front of Theo and Scott, it’s headlights reflecting off of Scott’s red eyes and Theo’s yellow ones. The lights turned off as the ignition was killed, and Parrish jumped out of the driver’s seat, Liam and Brett climbing out of the back. A small black car pulled up, and Kira emerged from that, coming over to Scott and slinging an arm around his shoulders. Theo did a headcount. Six were here, one was missing. Theo had to stop himself from smirking. Christ, she was doing this to herself! A little nudge in the right direction, and Lydia’s stellar attendance record, and Scott would be a fool not to believe that-

“Where’s Lydia?” Scott barked, his eyes flitting from face to face in aggravation. “Where is she?”

“She told me she was going home.” Kira said with a shrug. “Maybe she fell asleep. Or- she did kind of look weird at the clinic. I mean, maybe she-”

“Here!” A voice called from the distance, and Lydia ran to meet them, wearing sensible shoes for once instead of her signature stilettos. “I’m here!” Her red hair arrived at the circle a second after she did, matching the color of her rosy cheeks as she caught her breath. “Sorry I’m late!”

Scott breathed out a sigh of relief, and Theo had to work hard not to frown in displeasure.

“Lydia, are you ok?” Kira asked. “You seemed kind of spooked earlier.”

“I’m fine!” Lydia said casually, with a flippant wave of her hand, and the motion sent alarm bells through Scott’s brain. Lydia didn’t do that. She was usually much more reserved. This new and relaxed Lydia had Scott concerned. People only looked that much at ease when they were overcompensating for hiding the opposite. And her panting hid it well ,but she was shifting on the balls of her feet, looking uncomfortable at the pack’s direct gaze on her. Scott’s heart plummeted to think it, but Theo was right. Lydia was definitely hiding something.

“You sure?” Scott asked, careful to keep any accusation out of his tone. “No banshee feelings or anything?” It was an honest question. If Lydia was feeling weird, 9/10 times someone else was dying. If Lydia’s strange behavior was due to that, then of course she was innocent.

Lydia’s fake smile fell in an instant. “Your mom called you, didn’t she.” she said, stone-faced.

Scott nodded. His mom had done no such thing. But now Scott was intrigued. A sideways glance at Theo said that he was, also. “I know you were at the hospital. I know about the patient.”

It was blind luck, but it seemed to do the trick. Lydia instantly looked defensive, and when she opened her mouth to reply, it was with a harsh tone that she said, “Look, I know nothing about that guy, I swear! But I was going crazy, so yeah, I went to the hospital to see if they had anyone in critical condition. There’s nothing they can do for him, he’s a goner. By the time we’re done searching for the nemeton, he’ll be dead and I’ll be free. Happy?”

Scott looked at Theo, who gave a tiny nod. So he had heard it too, then. The little jump in her heartbeat. It made no sense, Scott knew that Stiles had taught all of the humans in the pack how to lie to werewolves. Whatever Lydia had seen must have rattled her to the point of forgetting.

“You’re lying.” Scott said, and he wished he didn’t sound as accusing as he did, but he needed to figure out what Lydia was hiding. Just to be sure.

Lydia scoffed. “I have a right to my privacy, Scott.” she said disdainfully.

Lydia was right. Scott was being unreasonable. It was ridiculous! They were wasting valuable time nitpicking an alibi that didn’t matter! And yet... Theo’s words reverberated around his skull. No, he needed to be sure. He told her as much.

“Lydia... I need to be sure.”

 

The Impala door slammed with it’s usual _thwack!,_ and Stiles exited the driver’s seat hastily, looking guilty as he walked around the car to the trunk. He felt guilty, too. Actually, he felt tired, and scared, and nervous, and 100% done, and lots of things, but yeah, guilt was pretty high up. He knew how Dean felt about his car. He knew how Dean felt about him. Dean will not be happy with him when Stiles comes crawling back. And he will come crawling back, on the legs Theo will break for him, because even for Stiles, this was an astoundingly stupid idea. He wasn’t just going into the jungle. He was meeting the monster at the heart of it.

The trees rustled in the wind as Stiles opened the Impala’s trunk, then lifted up the false bottom. He grabbed a pack of wolfsbane that held on a hook, he would need that, because where mountain ash proved useless, wolfsbane proved astonishingly effective. He stuffed as many silver knives in his pocket as he could, mourning the loss of his usual silver knife. Theo had probably taken it when he was captured. Bastard. Stiles also found convenient places on his body to hide salt, holy water, and whatever the hell else he would need, because he was walking in blind and he might as well be ready for anything. Briefly, Stiles cast his eye over his brothers’ vast assortment of weapons, and wondered if he should take a gun.

_No._ He decided. _To loud, too cluttery. Besides, I already have a weapon._

Stiles closed the Impala’s trunk and walked over to the passenger door. Hotwiring the Impala had become second nature for him, but even then, he had only had time to grab one thing from the Jeep before leaving his brother in the dust. Stiles pulled the weapon out of his car. Hopefully he had chosen wisely.

 

“You need to be sure of what?” Lydia asked, and her voice was deadly. She squinted at Scott, daring for him to continue.

“Uh...” Scott said, looking like he was seriously regretting this conversation. He glanced at Theo for support, who nodded, indicating he should continue. “It’s just.... I know how hard this all is. Fighting members of our old pack. Not everyone remembers Jackson, Danny, and Ethan, but for those that do...” he was now addressing the whole pack, but he kept not-so-subtly glancing at Lydia. “I just want to remind everybody what our objective is. We’re trying to stop the doctors and save the chimeras. And right now, there’s a few people in our way. When everything’s over, we can mend all the burned bridges. Until then.... they chose their side, and we need to respect their decision while maintaining ours.”

“Spoken from a true alpha.” Someone said from behind Scott, and everyone turned to see Deaton standing with a vice like grip around Cas’ wrist. “I trust the matter has been settled?”

Lydia and Scott looked at each other. Scott looked apologetic, and she looked angry, but then she looked at Theo, back to him, and her gaze softened into one of understanding. She nodded.

“Yeah.” Scott said, relief making him feel giddy. Whatever Lydia was hiding, it couldn’t be that bad. It had something to do with the hospital, not Stiles. Maybe she was visiting his dad and felt guilty, or something. After all, she was right. She did have a right to her privacy. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Excellent.” Deaton said. “Our fine feathered friend here has just told me many of his qualifications, and I believe he is more than capable of leading us the nemeton. Once we get there, we will have to act fast, so I suggest some strategizing on our way.”

“What are we going to be doing once we get there?” Liam asked, and Brett looked equally curious.

Deaton smiled his mysterious smile. “Why, stealing the bodies back, of course.”

“Right.” Kira said with forced calmness, as Parrish’s heart sank. “Of course.”

 

There wasn’t any moonlight for Kevin’s sword to glimmer against, which was odd, because there were no clouds either. The full moon was a day prior, there should have been moonlight. Instead, only the stars and the trees were witness as Stiles held the katana down at his side like an extension of his arm, closing the door to the Impala and facing the monster, the monster being a very familiar patch of woods. ‘Beacon Hills Preserve.’ The sign read. ‘Do Not Enter.’ Stiles smirked. He couldn’t remember a time where he had listened, and it had certainly led to some interesting consequences.

Stiles wiped the smirk off of his face. His friends and family were in danger, this was no time for jokes. A very evil presence had descended upon Beacon Hills, scary enough to worry the King of Hell, and at the center of it all was Theo Raeken. Theo, who wanted to meet Stiles in 50 minutes at the freaking nemeton.

What else could ‘the jungle’ mean, other than the source of the supernatural tangle that wrapped around their lives? The sprawling roots of the tree were only the most minimal picture of how interwoven the nemeton was in Stiles’ life. It had killed him, it had brought him back to life, it had shelled out his body and made him split into two. In some sick way, Stiles and the nemeton were connected, his life interwoven with it. Which is why he hoped to hell that this worked.

Stiles closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He picked up his left foot and hovered it over the ground. He was about to put it back down when-

“Stiles!” A voice rang out, and Stiles jumped violently, surprised at his wit’s end. The abruptness of the motion, combined with him having one foot in the air, caused him to topple over with an undignified squawk, luckily on the side that didn’t have Kevin’s sword.

Stiles quickly stood up, and attempted to collect his dignity. He whirled into the direction of the voice. “What the hell?”

Glowing yellow eyes preceded the sandy curly hair. Of course, Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised. He was after all the one who told Kevin that Isaac had an intuition for these kinds of things, and would most likely find them. And now, here he was, fully emerged from the shadows and giving Stiles the incredulous look to end all incredulous looks.

“I should be asking that, don’t you think?” he asked with a trademark quirk of an eyebrow. “Given that you were about to walk into the woods with your eyes closed and- is that a sword?”

Stiles looked down to the katana that should have glimmered under moonlight that wasn’t there. “Yes.” he said. “Yes it is.”

Isaac squinted at it, as if something about the sword bothered him, but he quickly shook his head and cleared it. “Listen, Stiles, I know about what’s going on. Lydia filled me in.”

“Oh really?” Stiles asked, and he was genuinely surprised. He wasn’t surprised that Isaac had sought out Lydia first, conflict was tangible in the air and Lydia always maintained an air of neutrality. What surprised him was that Isaac had been able to talk to her, Stiles had assumed Scott had been watching his pack like hawks.

“Yeah.” Isaac said, looking a little sheepish. “She was at the hospital. Visiting someone, I think.”

Stiles was surprised again, and filed this under ‘strange information that might be relevant later.’ It was a very full file. “What did she tell you?”

“From what it sounds like, no one knows anything, and everyone is jumping to some very rapid conclusions.” Isaac said, and Stiles would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed that haughty tone of voice. “She also told me I had to pick a side.”

Now _that_ sounded like Lydia. “That must be a tough choice.” Stiles said sympathetically, resisting the urge to check his watch. He doubted Theo would be happy if he was late for their little ‘meeting.’ “Between your alpha, who you lived with for several months, and the spastic human you barely know and hardly like.”

“The spastic human who saved my life in New Orleans.” Isaac said solemnly. “Just because there’s holes in my memory doesn’t mean I don’t remember what you did.”

Stiles cringed. “I hoped you hadn’t. It wasn’t all roses.”

“No,” Isaac said, with a light laugh despite the heavy situation, remembering red walls and gray crypts, “it wasn’t. But I figured I owed you one.”

“You’d be right.” Stiles said conversationally, but really he was anxious to get moving. “And you have questions. Ask away.”

“How did Donovan die?”

Well. Isaac never really did have any tact.

“You know,” Stiles said with a sigh, resigning himself to his situation. “I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. Even if I tell Scott the truth, he’ll never believe me.” Isaac looked incredulous at this, and like he was about to provide an angry outburst, but Stiles preemptively shushed him. “If we’re going to talk, we might as well start walking.” He gestured in front of him to the twisting turns of the forest, and for a moment, some strange fear flashed across Isaac’s eyes. It was quickly swallowed, though, and Isaac waved his hand, indicating Stiles should lead.

A few minutes of walking went by, and Isaac’s curiosity could no longer be contained.

“How bad is it, Stiles?”

“Bad.” Stiles said. “We’ve faced stuff before, bloody, horrible things, but this seems different. I feel like this is our breaking point. It feels like this town is rotting, and, and-”

“-cut it open, and there will be ash.”

Stiles whirled around to face Isaac. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Isaac looked sheepish. “Um,” he said, and he wasn’t meeting Stiles’ eyes, which set off all sorts of alarm bells. “It’s something I heard Mrs. McCall say at the hospital about a patient, when I found Lydia at the hospital. Actually, there’s something she wanted me to tell you.”

“Mrs. McCall?” Stiles asked, surprised because it had only been that morning when she had showed so much anger.

“No, Lydia. She was pretty incessant about it, actually. I _had_ to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Stiles asked hesitantly, and his mouth was beginning to dry. Had Lydia had a banshee feeling? Was someone about to die? Was it Scott? His _dad_?

Isaac gulped, clearly not liking whatever expression Stiles was wearing. “She told me to tell you that Jessica’s boyfriend is in the hospital in critical condition, and he might not make it through the night. I don’t know who that is, but I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Stiles said, but blood was rushing in his ears. The sound of his heart seemed to be amplified. No, it was so much worse than he thought. Sam was dying. His brother was dying. The world tended to implode when Sam was dying. It probably had something to do with the trials. Oh god, _Dean..._

“Stiles, are you okay?” Isaac asked. He surely heard the hunter’s hammering heart.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, and thank god he had gotten good at lying to werewolves. “Let’s just keep walking.

 

Cas didn’t look happy as he lead the seven supernaturals and one mystical doctor into the dark forest, but then again, Scott didn’t really expect him to be. He hadn’t met Castiel, of course, but Stiles had gone on and on about the angel’s very heroic actions and the weird obsession he had with Dean. That must have given Scott the courage to match his pace with the angel at the front of the group. Either that, or he was steadily becoming more stupid. Both were equally possible.

“So, Cas,” Scott began, and cringed the moment the words left his mouth, because that was all kinds of a horrible conversation starter with a celestial being who is also technically your prisoner. Cas kind of glared at him sideways as a way of acknowledging his words, but did not do or say anything except continue walking, so Scott thought it marginally safe to continue. “You might not have heard of me, but-”

“You are Scott McCall, the first true alpha to walk the earth in 1,300 years.” Cas said with a disinterested monotone.

“Um.” Scott said intelligently, blinking several times in confusion. “Yeah. But Deaton said they were every hundred years or so-”

“Deaton is wrong.” Cas said. “The man knows more than the average human, but he knows far less than me. Most of the accounts of true alphas that have been obtained are false. They are merely werewolves who have killed their alpha in secret and later claim to have risen to the power by sheer will. We take notice when a genuine one actually walks the earth. And of course, Stiles talks endlessly about you.”

“Oh.” Scott said, and his head tipped a little at the wealth of information- mainly the fact that Deaton could be wrong- and so it took him a moment to realise that the mention of Stiles hadn’t sent a painful twang though his heart like he was expecting. Maybe he was finally beginning to accept Stiles’ betrayal. Behind him, Scott heard his pack titter, but it was probably less of what Cas had said and more the fact that an angel knew who Scott was. Or that Scott knew an angel. Whichever was weirder.

“So...” Kira said lightly from behind them. “You’re from heaven?”

“I was.” Castiel said, and he tilted his head to look up at the moonless sky, with some sad emotion in his eyes. “I’m not so sure now.” His eyes abruptly swiveled to glare at Scott, and he said quickly, “Do you never tire of breathing?”

“I- what?” Scott asked, dumbfounded, but he shouldn’t have bothered, because Cas had moved on to stare at the trees in front of them.

“We’re close.” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, the trees thin near the nemeton, almost like they choose not to grow there out of respect. It’s a wise choice. That tree is more living creature than plant. Soon, the supernaturals among you should be able to feel it’s presence.”

“We’re all supernatural.” Scott said forcefully. Well, not Deaton, but that guy had something going on.

“Of course.” Cas said, his eyes sweeping almost authoritatively over Scott’s pack, pausing just a hairpin of a second longer on Theo. “My mistake. Well, some might feel the effects more strongly than others.” His eyes flicked to Lydia and Parrish, who seemed to squirm under his gaze.

He took another step forward, and winced.

The pack followed him, and the effect was immediate.

Kira bent over, clutching her stomach. Liam doubled over too, only he was clutching his head. Brett let out an actual yell and fell to the floor, curling into a ball. Parrish did not fall to the floor so much as sink to his knees, a strangled cry on his lips. Scott, at first, seemed fine. Sure, it felt like there were anvils on his head and each of his internal organs, but he felt fine. But then he tried to take a step forward towards a concerned Deaton, but then all the anvils shifted, and threw him off of balance. He winded up on his side in what must have been pain, but in truth, the sensation was so intense, Scott couldn’t have labeled it if he tried. It must have been pain, because there was someone screaming in anguish, and it turned out to be him.

“Scott?” Deaton called, more worried than anyone had ever heard him in his life. The whole pack was on the ground, now, except for two figures Scott’s suddenly blurry eyesight could not make out, and from the sounds, everyone was in just as much of what must be pain as him. “Scott!”

Someone was shaking his shoulders, and the anvils on his organs were shifting unpleasantly.

“S-stop.” Scott managed to croak weakly, and look, there was an anvil on his tongue, too. “It- it - it’s the nemeton. We’ll be fine. Go find it.”

“Okay.” Deaton said, and he straightened up, turning to Castiel and the only two people of Scott’s pack who had not been felled by the nemeton. Lydia.... and Theo. Deaton squinted in suspicion. “Lydia, I understand. Out of all of the supernatural creatures in the world, she’s the most human. But Theo... how are you okay?”

Theo shrugged. “Maybe it’s cause I wasn’t turned in Beacon Hills. Or I haven’t been here long enough to have any kind of connection to it. I don’t know. But I will go find the nemeton, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course.” Deaton said. He shot a questioning glance at Lydia, who shook her head, indicating she would rather stay with the pack. “Be quick. Hopefully this... affliction will pass, and Scott and the others will follow.”

Theo nodded, and ran into the dark trees. He was soon out of sight.

 

“Isaac? ISAAC!” Stiles yelled, and he wasn’t freaking out, he totally wasn’t freaking out. It was just that Isaac had been in the middle of explaining what he had been up to after New Orleans, (mainly learning about witchcraft, but he hadn’t gone back to France, turned out he hadn’t liked it there very much), when he had suddenly doubled over, eyes glowing yellow as he moaned about the pain in his head. Those were all the words he had managed to get out before he was curled into a ball on the ground, screaming. Stiles knelt down next to him, and hovered his hands over Isaac’s twitching shoulders, but was at a total loss at what to do. “Isaac, what’s wrong?”

“I- ugh- that tree, that stupid tree- ow-” Isaac managed to mumble unintelligibly, but it sounded like every word he spoke was a massive struggle, so Stiles cut him off.

“The nemeton, huh? You know, that actually makes some kind of sense, count on a tree to be a little vindictive-”

He was rambling, but Stiles for the life of him couldn’t care.

“Stiles- GO!” Isaac choked out. “I’ll be fine but- but- you have to hurry!”

If you asked him about it later, Isaac would have said that he had no idea why he had told Stiles that, just that his brain had felt like it had been melted like lava, but deep in his gut there had been a sense of urgency that Isaac was positive wasn’t his own, and that in the middle of the massive cloud of pain was a crystal-clear need for Stiles to get to the nemeton as fast as possible.

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, and actually reached over with every intention of turning Isaac over and asking him to explain himself, but then he looked in Isaac’s eyes, and he saw something in them, fear, sincerity, pain- Isaac wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one moment, Stiles was at his side, and the next, all Isaac could make out were his retreating legs and the sword at his hip. Isaac wasn’t sure if the blackness Stiles was running into was the shadow of the trees, or his own failing vision, but that proved not to matter as he quickly and mercifully passed out.


	20. The Magic Tree Strikes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was written in December, around the time the new Star Wars movie came out. Hence all the Star Wars references. Can you find them all? Enjoy!

Ch. 20

The Magic Tree Strikes Back

Now that Stiles was in the dark and alone with his thoughts, he began to really think about his situation. He had left Isaac alone and in pain, but the alternative was to listen to Isaac tell him to leave him alone and in pain. It was dark, pitch black, actually, and there should have been a moon. And the ground should not be wet. And a sword should not be in his hand. And he should not be going to meet Theo by himself. No, that should not be happening. And yet, impossibly, it was.

Deciding that he couldn’t see a thing anyway, Stiles decided to screw it, and close his eyes. He held out the sword in front of him as a bumper of sorts, and took a tentative step forward, trying to feel anything besides the loose dirt beneath his feet. It took a couple more steps, and Stiles feeling like an idiot, before finally, he felt something. There was some resistance as Stiles put his foot down, and dread filled his heart. This was definitely the right way to go, then.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

Stiles jumped a mile high, and narrowly avoided falling over again. “What the HELL!” he exclaimed, instinct taking over as he lunged blindly, his fist connecting with a shoulder.

“Ow!” Crowley exclaimed, aghast, and Stiles could not see him, but he would know that voice anywhere.

“Crowley?” Stiles asked angrily. “I’ll ask again. WHAT THE HELL?”

“Funny you should mention Hell.” Crowley said furiously. “Given that your brother tried to shut it mere hours ago!”

“Funny you should mention my brothers!” Stiles retorted. “Because they aren’t here right now, so I could kill you and nobody would know!”

“Really, Stiles?” Crowley sneered. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Pray tell.”

“Alright.” Crowley said haughtily. And he started talking.

 

Dean wasn’t mad. How could he be? Stiles was his brother, his family, one of a very small group of people who have stood by him no matter what. Stiles filled in the gaps that Sam couldn’t, and he managed to be an incredible hunter while still living a (semi-) normal life.

Dean wasn’t mad. He was livid.

“I’m going to kill him.” he muttered, pacing back and forth in the warehouse furiously while Jody, Danny, Ethan, and Jackson traced his movements anxiously. “If he gets himself killed, I am going to raise him from the dead and then kill him again! What the hell was he THINKING?”

Danny jumped at Dean’s suddenly raised voice, and Dean zeroed in on the movement.

“You.” he said, voice laced with anger. “Can you find him?”

Danny swallowed, looking like he very much wished he could turn invisible. “Uh.... he doesn’t have his cell phone. There’s nothing in your car remotely like a GPS. I’m- I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

Dean looked ready to punch him in the face, but Jody interrupted him.

“Dean!” she said, managing to be harsh, stern, and authoritative without raising her voice.

Dean looked to her, surprised, and his anger melted away into the fear it really was.

“Stiles will be fine.” Jody said, eyeing Dean warily. “He can look after himself. In the meantime, I think there’s something you should see.”

 

Lydia watched Theo go, or tried to, but she couldn’t see beyond the reach of Deaton’s flashlight. She whirled around to Deaton. “Something’s not right.”

“I agree.” Deaton said with a small frown. “By all reasons of logic, Theo should be as incapacitated as the others.”

“Will they be alright?” Cas asked, eyeing the pile of groaning were-creatures, who seemed to be in less pain now that a few minutes had passed.

“They should be.” Deaton mused. “I’m more curious about you, though. Falling from heaven, that must have taken quite a toll.”

“We can discuss this later.” Cas said. “As soon as I show you the nemeton, I need to make sure the Winchesters are safe. All of them.”

“Sam and Dean, I don’t know about.” Deaton said. “As for Stiles-” he looked even more concerned. “I think that’s more up to him than to me.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked, and Deaton and Cas turned sharply towards her, momentarily forgetting her presence.

Deaton shifted on his feet for a moment, looking uncomfortable. The movement was so un-Deatonlike, that Lydia was immediately on red alert.

“What do you mean?” Lydia repeated, with a current of ice behind her words.

“Well,” Deaton said with a sigh. He shot a wary look at an incapacitated Scott before continuing, with a voice so low, Lydia had to strain to hear. “Stiles was at the animal clinic before you. Don’t give me that look, Lydia, I help everyone in Beacon Hills who needs it, Stiles included. He had two others with him. I was in the middle of showing them the strange mercury properties I explained to you when the lights were cut and they were gone. This was at around 7:00, I have not heard from them since.”

“Who was with Stiles?” Lydia asked abruptly, unfazed by the fact that Deaton had been hiding this from them. Deaton was always hiding things.

“Derek and Kevin.” Deaton said. “And I know what you’re thinking. It does not make much sense what the Doctors would want with two humans and a beta werewolf.”

There was an interesting flicker of emotion in Deaton's eyes when he said the word ‘human,’ but Lydia chose not to comment on it.

“If it was them.” Lydia muttered.

“Pardon?” Deaton asked, with equally confused eyebrows.

Lydia sighed. This is where she would have to bend the truth a little.

“Stiles has expressed... concern about there maybe being a third party in Beacon Hills.”

Deaton and Cas’ alarmed reactions were immediate.

“What do you mean, third party?” Cas asked, wide-eyed. “An angel? A demon?”

“No, no!” Lydia said hurriedly. “Nothing like that! But someone had to have poisoned Scott’s inhaler and trick Liam into fighting him. Someone is working with the Doctors and against us. Stiles knows who it is, but he wouldn’t tell me, because he wanted to keep me safe, the idiot.”

“I see.” Deaton said, scrutinizing Lydia. “I’m not going to ask how you came about this information. This is not the time for distrust. But what you said might bring light to this.” There was a crinkling sound as Deaton reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of crumpled notebook paper. “I discovered it after Stiles, Derek and Kevin vanished from the clinic. I’m not sure which one gave it to me, or when they had time to shove it into my hand, but let’s see what you make of it.”

Deaton carefully smoothed out the paper and held it out for Lydia to take, which she did, red painted nails flashing even in total darkness. Deaton held up his flashlight so that it hit the right side of the paper, and several hurriedly scrawled words were written in black ink.

_Deaton,_

_I think you’re on to something very important with the mercury. Unfortunately, I probably will not be able to tell you in person, nor will I be able to apologize for swiping a vial of it. (Sorry.) There are several extremely powerful people coming after me right now, and sooner or later, one of them will catch up. My money’s on the Doctors. Here’s the address for the place where Scott and his pack are. (The address was blacked out, probably Deaton’s doing after the fact.) You were right, when you said that I knew more about what was happening than I was saying. Believe me, if I could tell you, I would. But it’s better if you figure it out on your own. Because why would you have any reason to believe me? Theorize a little harder, Deaton. You’ll get there eventually._

Lydia looked up from the letter to find Deaton staring at her inquisitively. “It’s from Stiles.” she said, handing it back to him. “That much should be obvious.”

“Yes, I know.” Deaton said. “How he managed to write it in the clinic baffles me. Now, is there anything in this letter you can understand that I might have overlooked?”

“No.” Lydia said. “It’s pretty straightforward.” She glanced at her pack, who looked like they weren’t in pain anymore, but were out cold. “Don’t we have more important things to deal with right now?”

“Perhaps.” Deaton said, he, too, casting his eyes to the fallen pack. “Or perhaps not. If Theo is venturing towards the nemeton alone, there is a great possibility that Stiles is already there.”

Lydia’s blood chilled. For some reason, the thought of Theo and Stiles alone made her want to hurl. “What? How? He doesn’t have anyone to show him the way.” She shot a grateful look at Cas, who nodded.

Deaton opened his mouth to respond, but Cas beat him to it. “The nemeton is a very complex force.” he said gravely. “Even with all the knowledge of Heaven behind me, I could only scratch the surface of the secrets it contains. If the nemeton wanted Stiles to be there, it would find a way.”

“And if it wanted to keep other people out...” Lydia trailed off forebodingly, looking again at her pack, whose faces still held traces of pain. “Well, certainly it’d be able to do that too, right?”

Deaton straightened up. “You need to go.” he said quickly. “Follow Theo into the forest. For some reason, he needs you there with him.”

 

“Why do you think your boy toy over there collapsed?” Crowley asked, inclining his shoulder to where Isaac lay, a considerable distance away. They were walking now, towards what Stiles assumed was the tree, and the ground seemed to stick to him like black tar, but Crowley was having no such difficulties.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe cause he’s a werewolf?”

“Or maybe it’s because he’s not supposed to get this far.”

Stiles looked at Crowley quizzically, or tried to. “What do you mean?”

“Stiles, look up at the sky. What do you see?”

“I can’t see anything, Crowley!” Stiles all but shouted. “Or believe me, I would punch you in the face!”

“Exactly!” Crowley exclaimed. “There’s no moon! Remember what I told you this morning.”

“The nemeton was being smothered.” Stiles repeated. He looked up at the indistinguishable velvet blackness that had to be the sky. “You said Kevin and I could stop it.”

“I said you had to or else I’d kill your pack.” Crowley corrected. “It seems you’ve gotten yourself a new one. But I don’t think you realize the complexity of the situation you’re in. It’s not just your friends’ lives at stake, it’s everyone's. Stiles, that _tree stump_ , dirty druid magic though it may be, has the power to _black out the moon_. What do you think your enemies could do with power like that?”

“Could they do it?” Stiles asked, anxious for the answer. It wasn’t often when Crowley was this serious, and the effect was terrifying. “Could the doctors harness the power of the nemeton?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley said. “It’s more than likely that this town will turn into the site of a nuclear explosion. I haven’t the damnedest idea of how the bloody thing works. But it wants you there. Why else would it be so easy to find?”

“Well how did _you_ find it?” Stiles asked, suddenly suspicious. Yes, Crowley was being helpful, despite the fact that Stiles was so screwed if anything he was saying was true, but Crowley never was in anything but for himself.

“Me?” Crowley asked innocently, with a dazzling grin that Stiles was oblivious to. “I’ve been here before. A long time ago, when it wasn’t just the memory of demon brains that tainted Derek’s loft, and the gold paint on the ceiling hadn’t even dried yet. And while I’ve been here before, this is where I need to leave you.”

Stiles’ feet, previously only feeling loose dirt, brushed on something solid.

“Why are you leaving now? Actually, why help me at all?”

“Call it sentiment.” Crowley said, and now that Stiles really focused, Crowley’s voice seemed different than earlier that morning and that afternoon. It was... heavier. Like there were actually emotions to put weight to his words. “You don’t look like you have many people to help you out right now. As for why I’m leaving, well, I don’t think Kevin likes me very much.”

“What?” Stiles asked, but he didn’t need to see to know that Crowley was no longer with him. Instead, he turned his attention to the solid object his foot had brushed against. It was skinny, and long, very long. Stiles traced it to where it was connected to a box-like structure, from what he could tell with his shoe. This box structure was connected, by another skinny link, to a round, heavy object.

Suddenly, it clicked. Stiles had stepped on an arm, a chest, a neck, and a head. It was a body, either passed out or dead. Crowley had vanished suddenly, mentioning everyone’s favorite prophet. _Oh god. Is this..._

“Kevin?” Stiles whispered, crouching down and lunging his hands blindly towards the body, feeling along its arm, to its chest, and then to its neck, where he put two fingers to, nearly fainting in relief as he felt a steady, strong pulse. Stiles felt for the head, and found a mess of hair that felt almost greasy from not washing. Yeah, this was Kevin.

“Kevin!” Stiles shouted, and he felt, rather than heard, Kevin come awake, his eyes fluttering open, taking a heavy breath as he tried, and failed, to gain his surroundings.

“Stiles?” Kevin asked, his voice raspy from hours of disuse. “STILES?”

“I’m here, Kevin.” Stiles said, and Kevin jumped, oblivious to how close Stiles was. “What the hell happened?”

“Derek and I ran away from the Doctors into the woods and got trapped in a magic hamster wheel. How did you get away from Theo?”

“I didn’t.” Stiles said, the words bitter in his mouth. “He let me go. Where’s Derek?”

“Somewhere around here.” Kevin said, shuffling around. “I- god, it was like walking through sticky cold water. I’m surprised we made it as far as we did. Then I just- I couldn’t take it anymore, and Derek said we’d rest for a minute, and everything went black. Well, blacker than it already was.”

“Hang on.” Stiles said, rummaging through his pockets. Suddenly things weren’t black, they were blue, and Kevin blinked rapidly at the instant change of light. It took him a moment to realize that Stiles had turned on a flashlight.

“You’ve had that the whole time?” Kevin asked in disbelief. “Why only turn it on now?”

“Well,” Stiles said sheepishly, choosing not to mention to Kevin that his face was covered in dirt. “I thought it wouldn’t help me find the nemeton. That’s moot now. Where did you say Derek was?”

“Over there.” Kevin said, struggling to take in his surroundings. He looked at Stiles, and blinked furiously. “Dude, you look awful.”

Stiles laughed shortly. “Find a mirror.”

 

“You knew about this?” Dean hissed, standing over the beeping machines that kept Sam’s body alive, looking at Jody with deep betrayal. Meanwhile, Danny, Ethan, and Jackson were attending the sheriff, desperately wishing to be anywhere else.

“Yeah, we dropped him off here just before you showed up.” Jody said, her chin tilted upwards in a show of bravery as she attempted to put Dean in his place. “But Dean, I prioritize. There’s nothing I could have done for him, and there’s nothing that you can do. But I figured you ought to know.”

“It wasn’t your call to make.” Dean said, but he wasn’t shouting. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were tired, like finally, he had been defeated. “I need a moment alone with him.”

Jody frowned, refusing to trust that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, before gesturing for the werewolves and Danny to follow her outside.

The moment the door had closed behind her, Dean sank to his knees.

“This goes out to any angel who is listening. My name is Dean Winchester, and I need your help.”

 

“Help?” Lydia asked incredulously. “You want me to go help Theo? What good would I be?”

“That is entirely up to you, Lydia.” Deaton said seriously.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Lydia mumbled.

“I would agree with you there.” Deaton said. “Today has been a very strange day, even by my standards. But I think for now, you might be our only hope.” Seeing Lydia’s incredulous look, Deaton sighed, and opened the crumpled letter again. “There’s one thing still troubling me about this letter. Perhaps you’ll help me figure it out before you make your decision. Stiles opened it by complementing my research on the mercury 2.0. saying I was on to something. But I don’t think that’s quite what it was supposed to mean.”

“Based on what?” Cas asked, intrigued.

“The last line. _Theorize a little harder, Deaton. You’ll get there eventually.”_

Lydia’s blood chilled. “Repeat that.” she ordered.

Deaton obliged.

 

“C’mon, get up.” Stiles said, prodding Derek with his toe.

Derek groaned, but thirty seconds later he was ready for action, claws extended and eyes glowing. He eyed Kevin’s (well, now it was Stiles’) sword incredulously. “What happened to your bat?”

“I upgraded.” Stiles said, swinging it for emphasis. “Now we need to move. We need to get to the nemeton by midnight.”

“And how do you propose that?” Kevin asked. “We have no idea how close we are.”

Stiles’ smile was briefly illuminated by his flashlight before he clicked it off. “Look at the sky, Kevin.”

Kevin did just that, and instead of the indistinguishable velvety black, he saw stars, hundreds of them, all dancing around a big, nearly full moon.

“What-?” he asked, his eyes drinking in the light with amazement.

“That’s no moon.” Stiles said. “It’s a sign that we’re close. Derek, look at your feet.”

Derek, puzzled, did just that, and that’s when he noticed the unusually large root he was standing over. It was big, probably the circumference of his ankle, and it did not seem to be attached to any of the nearby trees. But that would mean...

Derek pivoted, and he, Stiles, and Kevin, traced the root to where it got bigger, and joined other ones, and somewhere, just beyond their eyesight, was it’s source.

Stiles’ now illuminated grin was contagious, and even Derek looked like he wasn’t grimacing. “I told you.” he said.

 

“‘Theorize a little harder, Deaton. You’ll get there eventually.’” Deaton quoted.

Something clicked for Lydia, like there had been a missing gear in her head, and only now was her brain beginning to work. The words sounded so familiar, and rightly so, because Stiles had spoken them to her twice. Once when he was in prison, and once when she was, locked away in his hideout because she had picked the wrong side.

_Theorize a little harder, Lydia, you’ll get there eventually._ He had said, his arms wrapping around the bars of his temporary jail cell.

_Theorize a little harder. You’ll get there eventually._ Stiles had shouted through a wooden door, where she, Scott, and everyone else had been a captive audience. And now, here they were again, scrawled on a piece of paper by someone who was running out of time.

_Theorize a little harder, Deaton._

Theo _rize_.

Theo.

God, it was obvious. Stiles had been trying to tell her for _hours_.

“Lydia?” Deaton asked. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” she said, and her voice sounded strange in her own head. “I think you’re right. I think I need to go after Theo. He shouldn’t go to the nemeton alone.”

Deaton nodded solemnly, and Lydia was relieved that he was not asking questions. He made to give her his flashlight, but she refused.

“I won’t be needing that. If I need to see, I’ll see.” _After all, for so long, I’ve been blind._

It was like the lights had turned on, a bitter parody of her time in the dark of Stiles’ treatment plant, and suddenly, everything Theo had done was crystal clear. Theo had been manipulating Scott and his pack for months... and the only person who had noticed had been Stiles. And look what they had done to him.

“Be careful, Lydia.” Deaton said warily, as she made her way past him and Castiel towards where the trees were thinner. “You have no idea if you are walking into a trap.”

“I am positive I am walking into a trap.” Lydia said. _The question is whose._

Before Deaton or Cas could protest, Lydia ducked into the forest, and ran blindly towards the unknown.

 

“We need to run.” Stiles said. “It’s almost midnight.”

Kevin and Derek needed no further prompting, and together, the three raced towards the nemeton.

 

It was right about then when Sam opened his eyes with a startled breath. “Dean?” he asked in shock. “What’s going on?”

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean said, eyeing the window on the other side of the room. “I’d love to explain, but I don’t think we have time. Can you walk?”

 

It was right when the outline of the nemeton was visible to Stiles that Jody heard the sound of broken glass, and stormed into Sam’s hospital room to find it empty save for the sheriff.

 

It was right when the large, disembodied roots began to grow closer together that Scott began to stir and moon illuminated for Lydia.

 

It was 12:00 on the dot when Stiles crashed into the giant tree stump, closely followed by Kevin and Derek. The three untangled themselves quickly, standing up with heavy breathing, looking across the wide wasteland of a tree stump, and the forest that held it’s secret.  
Naturally, they were not alone.


	21. Midnight in Peril

Ch. 21

Midnight in Peril

Of course. Of course. Of course of course of course of course.

_Of course_ Dean would run with Sam’s body. Really, Jody shouldn’t have expected anything else.

_Of course_ Lydia would run blindly into trouble, if it meant saving her friends from death.

_Of course_ Scott would open his eyes just as Lydia disappeared, and would misinterpret her absence as betrayal.

_Of course_ Kevin and Derek would stand by Stiles, even in the face of danger, because when had they ever disproven their loyalty?

_Of course_ Stiles would look at his enemy and not even blink an eye, even by the light of the moon, his scarred hands telling his story for him.

And of course, _of course,_ it would be him, him with the vile eyes and the skin crawling smile, that would stand on the other side of the giant tree that in some cultures represented eternity.

Theo always did have a flair for drama.

Stiles stared back at him for what felt like an eternity, his placid face barely controlling his rage.

Theo made the first move. His grin broadened in a way that chilled bones, and his arms spread wide in a gesture that was supposed to be inviting. “You came!” he said, positively gleeful.

Stiles resisted the urge to throw up. “You didn’t give me much choice.” he retorted. “Who were you going to hurt this time, huh? My friends? My brothers? You already took my best friend so I guess you would have had to get creative.”

Theo smirked at the heavy contempt in Stiles’ voice. “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t necessary.” he said, and he began to take a few treacherous steps around the tree stump towards him.

Stiles, Kevin, and Derek held their ground.

“What do you want, Theo?” Kevin asked. “Besides world domination, clearly.”

“What do you think I want, Kevin?” Theo asked mockingly, still walking towards them. Derek traced his movements warily. “How do you know it isn’t just world domination?”

“No, I meant what’s in it for you?” Kevin asked with a vindictive gleam in his eyes. “Working with the Doctors. I know you want whatever you can get your hands on, but really, why stoop to the level of some steampunk wannabes who clearly have some sort of fetish for metal-”

That was all Kevin had time to say before Theo _lept_ over the remainder of the tree stump and wrapped his clawed hand around Kevin’s throat, lifting him into the air.

“You. Don’t. Know. Anything.” he said vilely, ignoring Kevin’s strained breath, kicking feet, and the hands that tried frantically to slap away Theo’s grip. “Don’t move,” Theo said to Stiles’ raised sword and Derek’s sheathed claws, “or else I punch his throat full of holes. Are we clear?”

Stiles looked at Derek, who nodded, eyes never leaving Theo’s face. The two backed up, raising their hands and their weapons in the air, their twin looks of contempt failing to intimidate Theo in the slightest.

“Excellent.” Theo said, and he threw Kevin to the ground, who convulsed, gasping, and reached for his throat in desperation as he continued to shallowly breathe. No sooner had his breaths stabilized to something less shuddery that Theo picked him up by the scruff of his neck, and, instead of lifting him in the air, merely turned him towards Stiles and Derek and held claws up to his throat as a threat.

“Now,” Theo said, immune to Stiles’ boiling rage, “Let’s talk about what I want.”

 

“DAMMIT!” Jody exclaimed when she saw the broken glass. Would it have killed Dean to open the window instead of jumping out of it like some kind of action hero? This room was on the ground floor.

“I’ll go get Melissa.” Danny said, and he took off running. Jackson and Ethan, meanwhile, marched over to the window and began picking up the glass, making sure none had landed on the still unconscious Sheriff Stilinski.

Five seconds later, Melissa came running in. She took one look at the window and whirled on Jody, with all of the rage of an underpaid nurse.

“Do you mean to tell me that one of the visitors I broke several rules to allow just up and _stole my patient?”_ she asked, her voice deadly quiet.

Jody didn’t even flinch. “Yes.” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.”

Melissa’s anger deflated into exasperation. She glanced quickly at Sheriff Stilinski then pressed her thumb and her forefinger to the bridge of her nose in exhaustion. She looked beat, and Jody realized that the missing John Doe was the last thing on her mind.

“You didn’t know who he was.” Jody stated, gesturing to the empty bed.

Melissa scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. “Of course not. And your boys over here-” she gestured to a rather embarrassed Jackson and Ethan, “said they didn’t either. I thought, what with you being a sheriff and them being werewolves, that you were here to visit Sheriff Stilinski.”

“Partially.” Jody said, and she allowed herself to mourn a little for her fallen friend. She and Melissa looked at him simultaneously. “Is he going to get better?”

Melissa McCall sighed, and there were layers of defeat in her voice when she spoke. “I don’t know. No one knows. According to Stiles, the Doctors did this. He said they might as well be holding the sheriff hostage.”

“I see.” Jody said, and she had no doubt that that was true. “That was his brother, you know.” She nodded again towards the empty bed. “And I should have known Dean would try to save him. I’m sorry for your trouble.”

Melissa looked astonished, horribly so, and Jody wanted to apologize but she really didn’t have time.

“C’mon.” Jody said to, as Melissa had put it, ‘her boys.’ “Get into the squad car. We’ve got a couple of Winchesters to find.”

 

As Lydia stumbled through the forest, she began to wonder what had come of Isaac, and if he had found Stiles like he had promised. After talking things over, they had agreed that they both needed to commit to a side.

_“I choose neither.” Isaac said, a ferocious glint in his eyes. “I owe my life to both Scott and Stiles, and I’m not going to facilitate in tearing them apart. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. And I invite you to join me.”_

As Lydia stumbled through the forest, she thought long and hard about her answer.

 

“Unghm” Scott groaned as he opened his eyes. His head hurt. His head _really_ hurt. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Then it all came back to him, the minutes of unbearable pain, and his eyes flew open instantly.

“Kira?” he called, surprised to find his voice perfectly intact. “Liam?”

“Here.” Came their weak replies, along with lots of groaning and shuffling.

“Parrish? Brett?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Parrish said, and Brett merely coughed.

“Theo? Lydia?”

“Indisposed, I’m afraid.”

Scott bolted upright to find Deaton looking at him with concerned eyes and a tight frown. “What do you mean, indisposed?” he asked, and the anxiety in his voice made him cringe. “Where are they?” He was slurring his vowels, and the world swam slightly, but Scott didn’t care. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he needed to get to the bottom of it immediately.

“Seeing as they were unaffected by your affliction, I decided to send them to find the nemeton.” Deaton said, with the slighted hint of hesitation, like he knew what Scott’s reaction would be.

He was right. “You did WHAT?” Scott yelled, or he tried to, but his voice cracked embarrassingly. He tried to stand up, but ended up stumbling into an awkward bear crawl before righting himself, cheeks burning.

Deaton quirked an eyebrow. “I sent them towards the nemeton. And you are welcome to follow them. But first, I think you have a pack to attend to.” He inclined his head behind Scott to the remainder of the pack, all in various stages of the slow process of standing up.

Scott looked torn between wanting to listen to Deaton and wanting to bolt after Lydia and Theo. However, he got over this, because in a heartbeat he was helping a stumbling Parrish to his feet, slinging the officer’s arm around his shoulder and hoisting him up to his now steady feet.

“I don’t like the idea of Lydia and Theo going off by themselves.” Scott whispered into Parrish’s ear as he set him down.

“Because you don’t think they can find the nemeton?” Parrish asked, also whispering.

Scott looked grim. “Because I don’t trust Lydia. I think she’s hiding something. I want you to find out what it is.” he said, and he turned to help Kira to her feet before Parrish could stammer out a reply.

 

Stiles sighed, deeply enough to rattle his ribcage. “I’ll bite.” he said venomously, and if looks could kill, Theo would be dead and in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. “What do you want, Theo?”

Theo shifted his hand slightly, moving his claws a fraction of a centimeter closer to Kevin’s exposed neck. “You know, you should really be more polite.” he chided with a snide smile. “Or my hand might just _slip_...”

Derek took a threatening step forward, but Stiles grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and yanked him back. _It’s not worth it_. He conveyed with a subtle shake of his head. Theo smirked at his small victory.

“You know, _you_ should really be more careful.” Stiles retorted, his eyes darting from Theo’s throat to Kevin’s terrified face to the outline of trees surrounding them, as if still trying to plot his escape. “If anyone were to walk in on this, well, what would they think?”

Theo’s snide smile melted from his face. “They’d think I was a hero.” he said, and the passionless, factual tone he spoke with unnerved Stiles even more, because he was right, of course he was right. “Because to them it looks like I’ve finally gotten the upper hand on my enemies.”

“Is that what you want?” Stiles asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it was too damn difficult. He was beginning to feel very tired, and he realized that he had not gotten a wink of proper sleep since before he had kidnapped Theo, 48 hours and a million years ago. “To kill me? Win over Scott completely? Bury my ashes and erase my memory until there’s nothing left but a half-dead tree stump?”

Everyone unconsciously cast their eyes to said stump. It looked innocent enough, but the bodies of the chimeras were on the other side of it, barely hidden from view. If Stiles looked carefully, he could see the outline of a hand that looked eerily like the one that had dug into his shoulder.

Theo’s sneer was back. “Close.” His grip on Kevin’s throat tightened like a vice. “But not quite. I already told you I wanted a pack.”

“You have one.” Stiles said through gritted teeth, and his body shuddered through imaginary cold as he remembered two vividly different conversations in the pouring rain, where he had made the same mistake twice.

He had underestimated Theo Raeken.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I want a better one.” Theo said, eyeing Derek with a ferocious look that Stiles did not like at all. “I told you that you were the only thing holding Scott’s pack together, and it wasn’t a lie. You might be out of touch, but let me fill you in. Malia’s in the wind. Lydia’s acting less than trustworthy. Kira is disgruntled at having to be blindly obedient, and everyone else is starting to have their doubts about Scott’s leadership. I’ve made the rounds. I’ve talked to all of them behind closed doors and curtains, and they’ve all told me that they think Scott made a mistake in letting you go, that it’s his fault you brought new hunters and old wolves to town. You say you’re not the glue but you’ve managed to uproot what would have otherwise been a stable pack.”

Stiles scoffed, buying time as his suddenly sluggish brain tried to catch up to the truckload of information he had been given. The fact that Theo was doing his best to infect the open wounds Stiles had left behind was no surprise, but it almost sounded like he was trying to manipulate Stiles into thinking it was his own fault.

“I see what you’re doing here.” Stiles drawled. “And I won’t let you. That,” he gestured wildly in the direction Theo had come from, where the pack must be, “is not my fault. That’s on you. You managed to turn some of the most honest people I know into backstabbers. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Yes!” Theo said with a blinding smile. “Because I didn’t do anything. They were already backstabbers. I just told them that it was okay, that I was their shoulder to lean on if they were feeling particularly murderous.”

Stiles’ face fell, Derek’s too, as they put the pieces together.

“We’re back to this, aren’t we.” Kevin said, albeit with immense difficulty. The strain in his voice was heartbreaking, but Stiles was paying more attention to the beginning of a dull ache in his own head that was definitely from dehydration. “It’s not necessarily Liam, but you’re going to get one of them to kill Scott.”

“One of them, all of them.” Theo said with a lazy shrug. “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll be happy enough to just sit back and watch.”

Stiles swallowed his horror, which was more difficult than he expected given his suddenly dry throat. Sure, he and Scott might technically be enemies, but he would _never_... The picture Theo had painted, of Scott kicked to the floor in a fury of claws, was beyond words, and Stiles’ chest began to constrict a little at the thought of that... of his friends doing... no no no no.....

“And you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.” Derek snarled. “Like some kind of hero. And you’ll have your pack, just like your old plan.”

“It was a good plan.” Theo said with a far-too-innocent shrug.. “It just got interrupted. If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.”

“Well since you’re taking questions,” Stiles sneered, because the part of his brain that would have said it wasn’t a good time for sarcasm seemed to have shut down, “I’d like to ask something. How the hell do the Doctors fit into this?”

Theo’s smile had morphed into something small and genuine, and it was more terrifying than anything Stiles had ever seen before. He was staring off into the distance like recalling a good memory, and Stiles sickeningly noticed that he had the same look when bragging about murdering his sister. “They want what I want.” Theo said with a small shrug. “Our motives are one and the same. We’re perfect allies. I want a powerful pack, and they want me to have a powerful pack, and together, we’ll-”

“Please don’t say ‘take over the world.’” Kevin whimpered, rather bravely, from his compromising position. “Anything but that.”

Anything warm and compassionate fell from Theo’s face in a heartbeat, and he looked rather miffed to be interrupted by his supposed prisoner. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Theo said, ignoring Kevin and looking Stiles dead in the eye. “Because sooner or later, you’ll join me, too. Like Kira, Liam, Brett, Parrish... even Malia once I get around to tracking her down.”

“Did they know what they were signing up for when you met them behind all those closed doors?” Stiles asked, wincing as his small headache grew into something much more painful. “Cause I’m sure they do know. We’ve been standing here for quite some time, Theo. They’re probably within earshot.”

Theo shook his head. “Wolfsbane and mountain ash around the entire clearing. With a little something the Doctors cooked up. No living thing can hear a word we’re saying. Not even Lydia.”

Stiles’ heart might’ve literally stopped beating. Or maybe that was the new chest pains. “Lydia?” he asked, and he could hear the stress in his breath. Kevin and Derek must have heard it too, because they shot him twin looks of panic before looking at each other knowingly.

Theo’s teeth shone sinisterly in the moonlight. “She followed me here.” he said, barely containing his glee. “She’ll be at the clearing in a few minutes. Whatever you were thinking of saying to her, I wouldn’t. Scott doesn’t trust her anymore and neither do I. But soon, hopefully I can trust you.”

Stiles scoffed. He summoned every ounce of Winchester strength he possessed and compartmentalized his sudden pain and weariness, standing straight at his full height, brandishing his sword threateningly.

“You know, that’s it.” he said. No snark, no humor, just cold, dead, truth. “I’m done playing around. Thanks for all the details to your evil plan, Theo, but no thanks. I’ve kicked your ass before, I can do it again. You can threaten me all you want, hell knows it’s been done before, but you do this,” he pointed to Kevin, who wore beads of blood on his throat, “and you threaten Lydia, and you corrupt my friends, and you plan a civil war, and then you act as if I’ll _just go along with it._ News flash, I won’t. You can tear my pack apart, and I will pull it back together _with my teeth_. This is your last warning. I don’t know how you think you’ll succeed, but if you think I’ll help you, if you’re looking for void Stiles, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that it’s gone. The darkness the nogitsune left behind was nothing I didn’t already have. But you wanna know something interesting?”

Theo quirked his head to the side, as if to say go one, and Derek and Kevin, uplifted by Stiles’ speech, began to shift themselves into fighting stances.

Stiles held up his dark katana, and though there was an almost full moon, no light reflected off of it. It almost seemed to absorb the moonlight. “This sword should not exist. I took it from an owner who turned to dust at sunrise, and by all strains of logic, it should have vanished too. It’s owner was a dark spirit intended for good will who got corrupted by the same thing that corrupted me, the same thing that’s buried underneath this tree. This is the sword of an Oni, Theo. I trust that you know what that means.”

Theo took half a step back as he, Kevin, and Derek looked at the sword with morbid curiosity. Kevin clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he were having a hard time processing that he himself had fought with that sword.

Stiles smiled grimly. “There’s nothing left of the nogitsune,” he continued, “except for a dark corner of my brain, and what it taught me. Most of it, I already knew. But when I hold this sword, I can _feel_ the power. And this close to the nemeton, this is less of a sword than a force of nature. This is a demon’s sword, forged of everything you’re too scared to look for in the dark, everything I hunt. This is what I’m going to use to kill you, Theo.” Stiles smirked darkly, and Theo reeled. “Like I said, this is your last warning. It’s twenty minutes after midnight, want to run home before your glass slippers disappear?”

It was like a spell was broken. For half a heartbeat, there were four people staring daggers into eachother’s eyes, with various degrees of humanity. Half a heartbeat later, the forest was flooded as wave after wave of people emerged from the black treeline, pouring into the now accessible clearing. Theo’s line of mountain ash must have been broken by a stray human foot as person after person appeared, each looking more confused than the last, filling out the space with utter chaos. Through the commotion, Theo hastened to distance himself from Stiles, and Kevin slipped from his grasp, running towards Stiles and Derek and passing a haggard Lydia, a broken-looking Jody, and someone he did not recognize who looked more tired than should be allowed.

The wave of people ended, and seemed to have subconsciously formed a circle around the nemeton, and the two people who stood at opposite sides of it. For once, everyone was there. Kevin wasn’t sure how the hell it happened, but he was standing in between Derek and Ethan, along with Danny, Jackson, Jody, Dean, _Sam,_ alive and well, some curly-haired dude that must be Isaac, and.... was that Crowley?

Ignoring the question, Kevin looked across the circle, and locked eyes with a very drained looking Scott, who stood with Kira, Liam, Parrish, Brett, an uncomfortable looking Lydia, and Deaton, who was holding onto Castiel’s arm with an iron grip. Okay, Kevin was missing something there.

Kevin and Scott might have had some awkward eye contact, but everyone else was focused on the main event, mainly Theo and Stiles, staring eachother down from opposite ends of the massive tree.

“Well done.” Stiles said to Theo, and he looked everywhere but at Scott, whose eyes he felt bore into him. “I think you just managed to start World War Three.”

Theo cocked his head to the side, analyzing Stiles. “Doubtful.” he said. “This battle will be over before it even starts. Tell me, Stiles, are you feeling at all dizzy?”

“No.” Stiles said, but his feet swayed even as he spoke, and the weariness and pain he had compartmentalized slammed back into him full force, causing him to sway even more. The back of his head was screaming, and almost unconsciously, Stiles slowly raised his hand to it, before pulling away sharply. It was sticky with dried blood. _Now when had that happened?_ The Doctors had knocked him out to kidnap him, sure, but there was no blood- he would have remembered-

-no no no no no no no-

“You sure about that?” Theo asked with a smirk. “You don’t look so hot. I mean, I don’t blame you, it’s been a hell of a day- getting arrested, escaping, and locking us up in your warehouse particularly stick out- but you really don’t look good. Maybe you should lie down, take a breather.”

“Maybe you should shut up.” Stiles said, but the words were about as lightheaded as he was. His chest was constricting uncomfortably, the clearing was tilting in a way that suggested it was about to spin. It was all too familiar. If he didn’t know better, Stiles would say that he was about to have a panic attack, but no, no, that was impossible-

Something was wrong. Something to do with getting hit on the head. He remembered lying on wet pavement and watching angels fall, and then waking up in chains with Kevin and Derek looming over him. Something must have happened while he was still unconscious. But what?

Something was very, very wrong, and the darkness was starting to feel claustrophobic, and the sword in his hand was too heavy, and the moon was like a glaring neon light-

“Stiles?” Theo asked, getting his attention. His smirk grew long and sneaky, and his eyes flashed yellow wickedly. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and Stiles used his remaining energy to focus on why. At first he was confused. Then he saw it.

It was like a child had picked up a red marker and traced it along Theo’s forearm, such was the nature of the cut. There was no weapon to be seen that caused it. Instead, an invisible blade cut across Theo’s forearm, making a long, shallow cut that blistered and burned from wolfsbane. It dribbled blood in thin waves, and didn’t look like it even hurt, but it had appeared out of nowhere, a stroke of an invisible paintbrush.

A wave of nausea slammed into Stiles, and he stumbled, gripping the edge of the nemeton for support. He felt something sticky on the back of his neck, and knew his head wound had started bleeding again.

Kevin nudged Derek’s shoulder. “It’s the vampire blood!” he hissed. “It has to be. Theo made that cut in front of our very eyes in captivity, and now Stiles is reverting back to the state he was in before he took it!”

Derek’s glare turned stone cold with fear. “He’s going to have a panic attack.” he whispered frantically. “We have to help him.”

He wasn’t the only one unsettled. A commotion had broken out among the crowd upon seeing their either fearless leader or fearsome enemy stumble from some unknown wound. Murmuring and discrepancy replaced the previous stillness.

“Stiles,” Theo said with a vindictive smile, uncaring about the blood dribbling down his arm. “You’re running out of time. It’s half past midnight, want to run home before your carriage turns into a pumpkin?”

Stiles wanted to stutter out a clever reply of where Theo could shove his fairytales, but of course, more pain slammed into him and he reached his breaking point. His chest felt like it was going to explode. His head was a hurricane. His insides felt like they were being eaten. He wasn’t sure he was breathing, but he was sure that was him screaming. His knees buckled. He pitched forward. His feet left the ground. And chaos broke out over his gushing head as he sprawled forward onto the heart of the nemeton, his cheek pressed up against the ancient tree stump as his body caught fire.


	22. Hell on Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter is a little different for others. It's super long, the longest of the whole story, and it covers almost everyone's point of view. There's also a time jump of about an hour, and everything in italics is what happens in-between the end of the last chapter and the present. Hopefully it isn't too confusing. Enjoy!

Ch. 22

Hell on Earth

_“I can’t have hell on earth if the earth has gone to hell, can I?”_

Stiles wasn’t sure why those words had echoed in his head as his nerves had been set aflame, but they had, and it didn’t really matter anymore. At first he had struggled to place them ,but then he remembered that Crowley had spoken them to him and Kevin as he urged them to track down the nemeton. Well look where that had gotten them.

_Oh god, Kevin...._ Stiles hadn’t been able to track him down during the fight, there had been too many interference, too many swinging fists and glowing eyes to see properly, even by the light of the moon. But then, it wasn’t like Stiles had had the optimal viewing area. He had been face down on a tree stump, after all, thankfully on the side away from the bodies. He had been perfectly content to lie there during his panic attack, the sounds of the battle dimming to a dull hum as his heart thundered in his ears, but then a hand had closed around his wrist, and he was yanked back to reality.

_“Stiles!” the voice yelled as it’s owner shook his shoulders, once, twice, trying to force his heart back into a regular rhythm. “Stiles, it’s alright, it’s not real, whatever you’re feeling, it isn’t real!”_

_“Mughskh?” Stiles murmured, lost among the swimming forest, seeing flashes of battle that couldn’t possibly be real._

_The voice shook his shoulders again, once, twice. “Stiles! Stiles! Stay with me, Stiles!”_

_Despite being held by his shoulders, Stiles swayed as he stood on his feet. Suddenly the hands left said shoulders and he swayed even more. But then the hands encircled his wrists, and he was- rather forcefully- yanked away from wherever the hell he was and whatever the hell was happening._

This was how Stiles found himself here. Sitting on Deaton’s table, the cold steel cutting through his jeans, his feet swinging in the empty air, staring at the only other person in the room, with Crowley’s disembodied voice echoing in his head.

The other person looked uncomfortable. His arms were crossed in either disappointment or resignation, Stiles wasn’t sure. His eyes were flat and exhausted. His clothes were ripped a little along the edges, and his arms had bruises that had yet to heal. Stiles recognized his own handiwork.

The other person wasn’t meeting Stiles’ eyes as he shuffled around, producing a wet washcloth and gauze from seemingly thin air before walking out of Stiles’ view and pressing the cloth to his head, cleaning up the bleeding wound.

“You saved me.” Stiles said, and he hated how weak his voice sounded. “Why?”

“You were having a panic attack. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Thank you.” Stiles said. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he had any real inclination of what he was saying, but once they were out, he could not take them back. Alarmed, he tried to turn around to read his savior's expression, but was blocked by a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”The savior said stiffly, and Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Even after the scene they had just walked from, his savior was too damn predictable. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.” Stiles said, “or else people might get a little confused.”

“What? Why?”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well,” he said, with as much hidden sarcasm as he could muster. “This may have escaped your attention, Scotty, but we’re kind of at war.”

The hand cleaning his wound paused, and suddenly Scott was in front of him again, looking at Stiles’ ashen face with a pained expression. He mumbled something so quietly even a werewolf would not have been able to decipher it.

“Speak up, Scotty. What was that?”

Scott grimaced. “I said,” he said, straightening up a little, “That I don’t want to be.”

Stiles scoffed. He didn’t want to upset Scott, especially when he was being so kind, but Stiles was feeling an avalanche of emotions, and anger was at the top of the list, right after disdain. “I hate to break it to you, Scotty, but that’s the type of gesture I classify as too little, too late. For all I know, your pack is slaughtering mine right now, right at the base of that damn tree.”

“You know, I didn’t have to bring you here!” Scott said, stepping back and raising his voice.

“Then why did you?” Stiles challenged, because yeah, he was curious. Dread pooled at the bottom of his stomach along with the knowledge that he knew nothing about his situation and had a million and twenty questions. The first on his list was _what the hell happened to me?_ Because he had some sort of hyper-panic attack at the nemeton, and he had no clue as to why.

“Because you collapsed on the side that didn’t have bodies.” Scott said firmly, looking at Stiles with something just short of a glare.

“Yeah, so?” Stiles tried to shrug, but his shoulders hurt to much. Come to think of it, his whole body ached. So he didn’t see the bodies. Who the hell cared? He was more concerned about the fact that some of his packmates might be bodies now.

“So I wasn’t. And I saw the gaping hole in Donovan’s chest.”

Oh.

Well then.

“So you believe me?” Stiles tentatively asked, hope filling his chest before he could squash it. If Scott saw the body, maybe he would stop trusting Theo. Maybe this whole nightmare could be over and-

Scott looked at the floor, unable to meet Stiles’ eyes, and Stiles’ heart plummeted down, too.

“I don’t know.” Scott said. “I- I mean- you never did tell me what happened to him.”

“I thought you already knew.” Stiles said venomously, unable to help himself. Scott flinched, and started backpedaling.

“I thought I did, too! And you didn’t correct me-”

“Wow, I wonder why I never corrected you! Let’s see! By the time I realized that you had the wrong idea, your evil bodyguard-”

“You’re wrong about Theo.” Scott said. Stiles ignored him.

“-Told me you were busy and pushed me out into the rain!”

“Yeah! Where you kidnapped him!” Scott yelled, starting to grow frustrated. Stiles again ignored him.

“Oh, let’s see, and then you had me _arrested,_ not fun, by the way, and then you invaded my privacy and attacked my friends-”

“-your friends attacked us, Stiles.”

“-and then I got kidnapped by the Doctors and then heaven threw up and then I found out my brother was dying and then I found out it was my other brother’s fault and then I stole his car on a whim and then I found Derek and Kevin within an inch of their lives and then I passed out so no, Scott, I didn’t have freaking time to CORRECT YOU!”

Stiles was panting heavily at the end of his rant, looking livid. Scott, on the other hand, looked lost.

“You got kidnapped by the Doctors?” he asked, his voice small, and Stiles plummeted back to reality. Yes, he had. But what the hell could he say without making this worse. Scott was here, willing to listen. Now was not the time to get angry. Now was the time to cut the strings on Theo’s puppet.

“Yeah, Scott, I did, with Derek and Kevin. It wasn’t fun.”

“What did they want?” Scott whispered, his eyes resembling those of a puppy dog's.

“My blood, and my silence.” Stiles said with a shrug. “I have no freaking clue why. They’re crazy and they’re terrifying. I’m beginning to wonder if they even have an objective.”

“I’m sorry.” Scott said, so quietly that Stiles had to read his lips.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the hole in my head, Scotty. Now do you believe me?”

Very, very slowly, Scott raised his eyes from the tile floor and looked into Stiles’. And in there, Stiles found doubt, confusion, and hope.

“What to do you have for me to believe, Stiles? What is your side of the story/?”

Stiles sighed, relieved, his shoulders hunched as all of the tension drained out of him. The pain was beginning to fade, too, and he looked down and saw Scott’s hand on his arm, little black lines scurrying from him to Scott.

“Well, I was just minding my business, fixing my car, when suddenly, my shoulder burned. I grabbed the closest thing to me, a wrench, and turned and hit Donovan as hard as I could. It barely wounded him, though, so I ran and he chased me....”

 

_Kevin_

“Umgh.....ow.....”

“Yeah, yeah. Get up, Kevin. We’re burning daylight.”

“Dean, it’s _night._ ” Kevin groaned, but he listened to Dean and opened his eyes anyway. He was rewarded by a headache that was akin to getting his head split open. Screw Dean. No way was he getting up any time soon. The floor he was on was surprisingly comfortable.

“Technically, it’s morning.” Dean chided, his usual smirk and swagger replaced with stone cold seriousness. “1:30 am to be precise. The fight was an hour ago. Whoever knocked you out did a damn good job of it.”

“Yeah.” Kevin said in agreement, the events coming back to him. 24 hours ago he had been with Stiles in the hospital, waiting for news on the sheriff. 1 hour ago, Stiles had pitched forward onto the nemeton, and Kevin had run to help him.

_Something yanked Kevin back from his frantic run. Turning with an anguished cry, he saw Derek, his hand closed around Kevin’s arm, shaking his head furiously. A moment later he saw why. Scott got there first, and was pushing everyone aggressively out of his way as he dragged a semi-unconscious Stiles out of the circle of trees. Kevin followed them with his eyes, or he tried to, but suddenly Derek’s arm was gone and Kevin’s face was full of the eyes of an angry werewolf._

_“Liam, hey.” Kevin said, but Liam slashed with his claws and Kevin was forced to duck, rolling over his shoulder as he tried to get away from the wolf. There was something off about the beta, a madness in his eyes that all too easily translated to a haphazard, lethal fighting style. Kevin spared a quick glance at the base of the nemeton and understood. Her lips were still glistening silver._

_“Liam, I’m not going to hurt you.” Kevin said with raised arms, but he wondered if Liam was sane enough to process what he was saying. That proved to be a moot point as Liam charged, throwing his arms around Kevin’s waist and slamming him into the ground. Kevin let out an oof! from the impact, instantly winded, barely registering as a supernaturally strengthened punch landed in his jaw, and then another and then another. This was not strategy. This was rage._

_“It’s- all- your- fault!” Liam stuttered out, emphasising each word with a nasty blow to the head. He sounded angry, confused, torn apart, grieving, and heartbreakingly broken._

_Liam’s shattered voice brought Kevin to his senses. “Who do you really want to say that to?” he whispered, too weak and too dizzy to put more weight behind his words. But because Liam was a werewolf, he heard him perfectly, and his next fist paused inches from Kevin’s marred, bleeding face._

_“Well, what are you waiting for?” An angry voice shouted from far, far away. If Kevin’s brain hadn’t been just dragged through sludge, he might have been able to place it. As it was, all he could tell was that the owner of the voice was a heartless bastard. “Finish him off! It’s all his fault!”_

_Despite the urging, Liam’s fist remained paused mid-air, his face a confusion of turmoil and grief. He stared at the blood dripping from Kevin’s nose with a horrified fascination. Kevin saw the moment his decision was made. The turmoil hardened to resignation, and while the grief did not go away, there was a new, cold malicious glint in Liam’s eyes that shook Kevin to the core. Liam’s fist went flying, and Kevin’s head thudded to the ground with the impact._

And then Kevin woke up on a surprisingly comfortable wooden floor.

“Where am I?” he asked, gaining enough control of his pain to sit up and look around. He was sitting in a vast space with wooden floors and wooden walls, a wooden ceiling hanging miles above his head. The light in the vast space was soft and orange from dozens of lit candles, which illuminated the crumpled fast food wrappers that lay a good number of feet away. At the sight of them, Kevin’s stomach grumbled. He wasn’t sure when he had last eaten, but it was probably just before getting kidnapped by the god-forsaken Doctors.

“You’re at the warehouse we found after the first fight.” Dean said, crouching down to sit at Kevin’s side. “You weren’t here for very long, so I don’t expect you to remember...” he trailed off, looking Kevin up and down as he assessed possible injuries. Kevin did the same. He came to the conclusion that Dean had no broken bones or concussions, but that was probably the only thing okay about him.

Dean had several small bruises and cuts on his face, some of which were still bleeding, and his hands looked to have gotten similar treatment. There were holes in his clothes, which he probably had been wearing for over a day, much like Kevin. He had a slight bump on the head, and he winced as he moved his left arm, like it was more injured than he let on. His eyes, though, that was what gave him away. His eyes looked like the eyes of a man drowning, seconds away from drawing what he knows to be his last breath. There were only three people in the world who could make Dean look so helpless, Stiles,Cas, and Sam.

“What happened?” Kevin asked, desperate to focus on something, anything, other than Dean looking like a walking corpse.

Dean cleared his throat. “Stiles keeled over. Scott nabbed him. I decided to let them go, I figured even after everything Scott wouldn’t do anything to hurt Stiles. Also I was a little preoccupied, because everything else went freaking insane. Someone attacked me, I fought them off, and then I saw the wolf kid on top of you. He had his claws up and looked like he was going in for the kill so I knocked him off, grabbed you, ran like hell, found the Impala, and took you to the first place I could think of.”

Kevin let Dean’s words reverberate around the empty space for a little bit. “Thanks.” he said at last. “I think you might have saved my life.”

Dean scoffed. “You’ve done more than that for us.”

“Mmhmm.” Kevin acknowledged, still too dazed to do any real thinking other than trying to decipher why Dean looked so broken. “Who else is here?” He looked around the softly lit space as if expecting a whole army to emerge from the woodwork.

Dean shook his head. “No one else. I didn’t have time- it was too crazy- I could only chance getting you out before someone else attacked me. Cas looked alright, Sam was holding his own just fine, and Stiles was already gone. I haven’t had time to call anyone else, either. You woke up about two minutes after we got here.”

Kevin had been nodding again, agreeing with the rationality behind Dean’s actions, but upon the utterance of the word ‘Sam’, his gaze sharpened, and he glared at Dean with all the force he could muster. It seemed to work, because Dean gulped, like he knew what was coming.

“Dean, you look horrible, and I mean really really horrible. I know it’s not cause of the angel thing cause there’s no way that that’s your fault, but you look like something atrocious has happened. Now there’s only three people who can make you look like that, and you just said they were fine. What the hell aren’t you telling me?”

Dean’s gaze dropped quickly to the floor, absolutely soaked in guilt. “Everything’s fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Now, Dean looked angry. “Look, you don’t understand!” he yelled, the raised voice making Kevin flinch and his headache worsen. “I did what I had to do!”

“Dean...” Kevin said slowly, but not without malice, as Dean took deep, shuddering breaths, revealing how hurt he was. “What the hell did you do?”

_Liam_

Liam awoke to a high, arched ceiling, with holes in it of where the the glass had broken from two werewolves tumbling down. It was the library. Of course it was the library. He was lying on the floor directly over the hole on the ceiling, and next to him in a wooden chair, Mason was sitting with his head in his hands.

Upon seeing he was awake, Mason sighed. “Thirty hours ago,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by his hands, “you almost killed Scott. How did things get _worse?_ ”

“Where is Scott?” Liam asked, sitting up and peering around Mason into the vast expanse of the library, and seeing no one else.

Mason shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Kira. She’s the one who got you here and texted me your location.” He nodded towards the other side of the library.

Liam swiveled, and found Kira sitting cross legged by the windows, her cheek resting on her hand and looking absolutely exhausted. She waved in acknowledgment.

“I have no idea where Scott is.” she admitted. “As soon as he grabbed Stiles, my hands were full.”

Liam shuddered as he remembered the battle.

_She did not look peaceful. Hayden looked like she had died far too young and lived no where near long enough. It made him furious. It made rage boil in the pit of his stomach. It made him not think straight. So he locked his eyes on the person immediately in his line of view, who happened to be the Asian hunter guy, Kevin._ It’s his fault, it’s all his fault _his wolf-brain was telling him, and Liam did not have the energy or the desire to disagree. Kevin had fought back, like Liam knew he would, but Liam was stronger, finally getting the upper hand. Kevin looked seconds away from passing out. But then Kevin had said what Liam had feared- that his wolf-brain was wrong about who’s fault it was, that Kevin had absolutely no part in Hayden’s death and Liam was hitting him simply because he was there, but then a voice rang out, a voice Liam trusted, confirming the truth, so he swung with all of his might. Kevin’s head laid against the grass, still, his neck open and exposed, so Liam might as well just finish him off. Eliminate the threat. He raised his claws in the air, but a hand closed around them. Liam turned and saw a man holding them, a man who could only be Stiles’ brother and who looked every bit as ferocious as a werewolf. It was the brother he hadn’t met in New Orleans. Dean._

_Dean, instead of speaking, snarled, and slammed his shoulder into Liam’s knocking him off of Kevin. Liam sprawled on the ground, and tried to scramble to his feet, but a boot lay strategically on top of his throat. Liam instantly stilled._

_“You’re what?” Dean asked. “16?” When Liam didn’t answer, he applied a little bit of pressure to his trachea._

_“Y-yes!” Liam choked out._

_Dean scoffed. “Trust me when I say that you’re too young to kill. And now you won’t ever again.”_

_Instead of letting him go, Dean pressed his boot harder and harder on Liam’s throat, and the world went slowly, painfully more and more black as it got harder and harder to breathe and his chest burned like it was on fire. It was probably a good excruciating two minutes later when Dean relented, leaned down, and clocked Liam in the head, knocking him out cold._

“A word to the wise.” Liam said, and yeah, his voice was still a little hoarse from the brutal treatment of his trachea. “Don’t piss off Stiles’ brother Dean. Ever. At any cost.”

“He’s the one who knocked you out?” Kira murmured. Liam nodded. She sighed. “Well I’m the one who took you here. You were probably lying there for quite some time, but I finally saw you and made a break for it. That battle was crazy. I didn’t want to be there for a second longer.”

“We need a game plan.” Mason said solemnly, and that jarred Liam out of whatever post-knockout daze he was in. Mason was never solemn, never. He always found ways to turn everything into a joke. But it looks like they were finally in a situation that no matter how you looked at it, wasn’t funny anymore. The Doctors, Scott, Stiles, the nemeton... it was a bundle of dark mixed with bad news, and Liam just wanted to be done with it all. Of course, he couldn’t, because he had a responsibility to his friends, but if only....

_It was around eight o’clock at night. The pack had split up, with directions to regroup at 11. Laim, instead of going home, figured he needed some time to think. So he went to the library. In his mind’s eye, he saw where, 24 hours earlier, he and Scott had tumbled through the ceiling, and he wondered what had possessed him to attack and try to kill his alpha._

_“You doing alright?”_

_Liam jumped a mile out of his skin. It wasn’t often someone could sneak up on him, but if anyone could, it would probably be Theo._

_“Yeah.” Liam said without turning around, looking out the window into the moonless night._

_“Liar.” Theo said as he sauntered up, standing next to Liam as he, too, looked out the window. “Most of us will probably never be alright again.”_

_“What do you mean?” Liam asked. He had been hoping that once this whole Stiles thing was over, he could take time to heal. He told Theo as much._

_Theo scoffed. “This whole thing with Stiles will never be over. Scott told me about what else he’s done, the demon he killed last year and the havoc he wrought in New Orleans._ After this is through, if it ever is, Stiles will just do something else. And Scott will still trust him, still waste his pack trying to save him!”

_“But... we’re enemies.” Liam said._

_“We won’t be for long. Scott has a blind eye when it comes to Stiles. It isn’t good that our leader has a soft spot for someone so dangerous. Sooner or later, Scott will get us all killed, and Stiles will be the one holding the bloody knife. It’s never going to be over, Liam. As long as Scott and Stiles are running circles around each other, you’ll never have the time to get the closure you need. One of them needs to be taken out of the equation.”_

_“What, like kill one of them?” Liam asked. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Despite himself, Liam found himself agreeing with what Theo said next._

_“No, no, nothing like that. But maybe if Scott wasn’t our leader anymore, we could finally deal with Stiles ourselves.”_

“We should call Scott.” Mason said morosely.

“NO!” Kira and Liam shouted simultaneously. Liam looked at Kira quizzically. She looked guilty.

“Alright!” Mason said, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No Scott. Not sure why, but no Scott. Well we need to get in touch with somebody.”

“Theo.” Liam said, the word practically falling out of his mouth, and beside him, Kira nodded eagerly. “We should call Theo.”

“There’s no need.” A voice said from the library entrance, and Kira, Liam, and Mason turned to locate it’s source. “I’m already here.”

 

_Kira_

From Kira’s perspective, the fight had been over the moment it started. As soon as Scott had abandoned her side and ran towards Stiles, she knew she couldn’t trust him anymore. It was exactly like Theo had predicted.

_“I have a message.” Theo said, arms raised in mock surrender as he stepped into the clearing she was using to practice her swordsmanship. It was around 8:30 at night, and while there was no moon, she was close enough to the city that there was some light illuminating her. “It’s from Scott.” Theo continued. “He wanted to say thanks for sticking around after coming back on such short notice._

_Kira swung at a tree rather bitterly._

_Theo raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Something bothering you?”_

_“No.” Kira said with gritted teeth as she practiced blocking. “It’s just-”_

_“You’re worried about Scott?”_

_Kira shot Theo a glare. “I’m always worried about Scott. I’m sick of being worried about Scott! I love him, don’t get me wrong, but I think he needs to just let Stiles go and focus on the Doctors. But every time I bring it up-” she swung her sword towards a small tree and chopped it in half- “he just ignores me!”_

_“Well, he’s only doing what he thinks is right.” Theo said reluctantly. “He’ll probably always choose Stiles before the rest of the pack.”_

_Kira swung towards another, thicker tree, and bark scattered everywhere. “Scott’s too blinded. Stiles is my friend too, and I know how hard it’s been for him, but I’m not going to let him get away with murder! My dad was almost put in jail because the Doctors made me kill a chimera, and it’s not fair if Stiles doesn’t have the same consequences.” Kira sheathed her sword, and turned and looked Theo dead in the eyes with a cold glare. “Maybe Scott shouldn’t be our leader anymore.”_

_It was too dark for her to make out the victorious gleam in Theo’s eyes._

It had happened, just like Theo had said. Scott had picked Stiles over his pack.

_Kira ran, to stop Scott or not, she wasn’t sure, but she ran smack into another person, tumbling down. The person turned out to be Lydia._

_“Sorry!” Kira said, but before she could get another word out, claws filled her peripheral vision, and she ducked, unsheathing her sword. She kicked her adversary in the knee, and he stumbled, enabling her to get back up._

_“Isaac?” she asked, because what the actual hell._

_“Don’t you touch her!” Isaac roared angrily, meaning Lydia, and Kira was even more confused._

_“Isaac!” Lydia shouted. “Come on! We need to go!”_

_Lydia turned on her heel, and she and Isaac vanished. Kira was more confused than ever. Then she saw Liam kneeling over Kevin, and her fighting brain kicked into overdrive._

_“Hey!” she shouted, because Liam looked ready to kill, and that couldn’t happen. But instead of Liam hearing her, someone else did. A werewolf who had been lying on the ground in front of her sprang up with his fists raised._

_“What, you want a rematch?” Jackson asked, and he looked covered in blood and so much worse for the wear. Kira wondered who he had fought. A rematch was the last thing Kira wanted. But Jackson was standing in between her and Liam, and she had to get to Liam, so Kira swung her sword. Jackson dodged the first couple of blows, but then one swipe cut a thin ribbon across his already bleeding chest, and he cursed, stumbling back. Kira kicked him in the chest, but his hand closed around her ankle and he pulled, sending her flying over him. She crashed to the ground with an_ oomph! _and scrambled to her feet, while he turned. They had pivoted 180 degrees. Which means she was on Liam’s side. Jackson snarled and looked ready to attack again, but before he could, Kira turned and bolted, finding Liam unconscious with a boot-shaped bruise on his throat. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and with strength she did not know she had, carried him out of the clearing, away from Jackson and the fighting, not once looking back._

“It happened, just like you said.” Kira said to Theo, standing up when he made it to where she, Liam, and Mason were. She winced as she put weight on her ankle, the bruising most likely from where Jackson had grabbed it. “Scott picked Stiles over us. We can’t trust him anymore.” Liam nodded.

“No.” Theo said in agreement. “We can’t. I’m glad you guys are coming to your senses.”

“Wait, what?” Mason asked, eyes flitting from Theo to Kira to Liam, looking like they all had gone crazy. “Why not? Scott’s our best effort at brokering peace with everybody-”

“Mason.” Theo said, not even looking at him as he cut him off. “Maybe you can do something useful. Go find Brett. I’m not sure what happened to him.”

Mason swallowed, and looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Theo’s eyes seemed to suggest that that was a bad idea. So without another word, he stood up and stormed quickly out of the library. His harsh footsteps echoed around the room long after he was gone.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Kira said. “He’ll come around.”

Theo shook his head. “Not soon enough. We need to regroup, and strike before Stiles can.”

“He’s with Scott.” Liam said reluctantly.

The grin Theo gave them made Kira and Liam shiver. “All the better.” he said. “We can kill two birds with one stone.”

 

_Jackson_

“You alright?” Jackson asked the kid as he poured two glasses of coffee. They were, in all the places possible in Beacon Hills, in his old house. The new owners were out of town, and hadn’t moved much around, so Jackson hadn’t felt any guilt whatsoever as he broke in and found two ceramic mugs with incredible ease. Once the mugs were full, he took one and slid it across the table towards Brett’s waiting hands.

“Yeah.” Brett said as his fingers wrapped around the mug, clutching on to it for dear life. “Yeah, it’s just- there were a lot of bodies. I recognized some of them.”

“You play lacrosse, right?” Jackson asked. “At the other school?” Brett nodded. “I thought I recognized you. I didn’t know you were in Scott’s pack.”

“I’m not.” Brett said, bringing his mug of coffee up for a sip. “There’s another pack one town over, the alpha’s name is Satomei. That’s my pack.”

Jackson sighed. “Then what the hell are you doing getting mixed up in this?”

Brett grimaced. “I could ask you the same thing, Jackson. Scott said you’ve been gone for two years. Wouldn’t it have been better to stay gone?”

“Stiles called in a favor.” Jackson grumbled.

Brett looked victorious. “And Scott did the same thing. Kira saved my sister and I’s lives a couple months ago, I wasn’t about to hang her and Scott out to dry.”

“But you think you might do that now?” Jackson asked. Seeing that Brett looked uncomfortable, he immediately added, “No one would blame you if you did. This is a civil war in a pack you don’t belong to. You’ve already paid back your debt. Get out before it’s too late.”

Brett grimaced again. “I’m not sure I can.”

“What do yo mean?”

“It’s-” Brett looked deeply unsettled. “I feel like there’s something going on I can’t see. I feel like I’m not fighting for Scott anymore.”

“It’s Theo.” Jackson said with bitter resentment. “He’s twisting apart Scott’s pack. You can’t trust him. You know that, right?”

Brett nodded. “No, I know. From the moment I saw him, I knew. I just figured I’d be taking orders from Scott, so I paid it no heed. But now... I feel like I don’t have a choice. Liam thinks Theo is some kind of angel, and he won’t listen whenever I try to contradict him. I feel like I have to stay so I can keep Liam safe.”

A picture of Lydia flashed in Jackson’s mind, but he quickly discarded it. Lydia didn’t need Jackson to keep herself safe. So why was he compelled to stay?

“Theo’s the one that did that, wasn’t he.” Brett asked, gesturing with his mug towards Jackson’s various cuts and scrapes that had yet to heal.

Jackson took a long swig from his coffee, loving the bitter taste that ran down his throat “Yeah.” he said after a long pause. “Yeah, he was.”

_On a whim, Jody had decided that Sam and Dean, and even Kevin, Derek, and Stiles, might be at the nemeton, so they had decided to go there. The woods had been thrown into calamity when Stiles had toppled over, so Jackson had taken the opportunity to try to sneak up on Theo._

_That hadn’t worked out so well._

_He had been inches from the bastard’s neck when Theo had turned, and grabbed Jackson’s throat in a heartbeat, lifting him off of the ground._

_“What were you going to do, huh Jackson?” Theo asked with a vindictive gleam in his eyes. “Kill me? In front of my whole pack? That’s ballsy, even for you.”_

_Jackson tried to reply but he couldn’t speak. Using both hands, he tried to pry free of Theo’s grasp, but to no avail. Theo laughed as he watched him struggle, then threw Jackson backwards, onto the ground._

_“What were you going to do, Jackson?” Theo sneered, bending down and digging his claws into Jackson’s chest, again and again and again, reducing it to ribbons, blood pooling under his claws. Jackson screamed from the pain, and he tried to get up, tried to defend himself, but Theo stopped him every time, first with a kick to the shin, then with a punch to the stomach, and finally with a final kick to the head that made a sharp_ crack! _Satisfied with his work, Theo left Jackson a bleeding, beaten mess. He slithered off, probably to go hurt someone else, and next thing Jackson knew, Kira was shouting at him. He tried to fight her with what little remaining strength he had, and then she turned and ran and Jackson had never been more relieved. The relief soured, however, when he ran into Brett, who looked like he was fleeing for his life. Brett raised his hands tentatively, as if unsure whether or not to attack, but Jackson batted him away._

_“C’mon.” Jackson said, taking stock of the chaos around him. He was hurt, his strength was draining, and the kid in front of him didn’t look much better. No one would notice him leave. “Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed Brett by the shoulder and guided him towards the trees, moving quickly so he would not accidentally start another fight. It was a true sign of Brett’s exhaustion when, instead of fighting him, he merely hung his head and allowed Jackson to lead the way.”_

“Theo could have killed me.” Jackson said. “I was down, there was no way I was getting back up. A couple of slashes, and it would have been over.”

“It wasn’t mercy.” Brett said. “He left you alive on purpose. Somehow, it helps his cause.”

“I shouldn’t have fought him.” Jackson said. “It was luck that I got the best of him at the treatment plant. This time I went down in five seconds.”

“We’re all exhausted.” Brett said. “I went down in less than that.”

Jackson looked at Brett inquisitively. “Who’d you try to fight?”

“Danny.”

Jackson whistled. “Big mistake.”

Brett flinched. “I know. He looked like an easy target. I just wanted to get him out of there. So I walked over to him, hands up, and- and he pulled a shotgun on me.”

_The next thing Brett knew, he was being yanked backwards by his collar and spun so that he faced Ethan, who looked livid._

_“I was just- I was just-”_ trying to help _, he tried to say, but Ethan was not listening to reason as he attacked, a flurry of claws and teeth so fast, Brett was dizzy trying to keep up. Eventually, with his arms all torn up, Brett swiped low, cutting Ethan’s ankles. Ethan fell off balance and Brett slammed into him, knocking him off balance even more. Ethan fell backwards on to his hands and sprung right back up. Brett raised his fists for round two. But then his chest was on fire, and a powerful force sent him stumbling back. Brett looked up from the blood blooming in his chest in shock to see Danny holding a smoking shotgun._

_He stumbled back again, right into Derek, who took one look at him and clocked him in the jaw, leaving Brett reeling._

“Then I ran into you.” Brett said.

Jackson frowned. “That gun was full of rock salt. It must’ve hurt like hell.”

“It did.” Brett said remorsefully.

“Well then that’s the last time you screw around with my best friend.”

Brett sighed, and took another sip of his coffee. He opened his mouth and started to say something, but he was cut off by a shrill ringing from his pocket. Shooting an apologetic look at Jackson, he took out his phone, which had somehow stayed in his pocket during the fight, and relaxed as he checked the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

“Brett, it’s Mason. I’m outside the school library. Theo wants to see you.”

Jackson, with his werewolf hearing, heard the whole conversation. “Put him on speaker.” he mumbled, and Brett looked grateful.

“Mason, what happened?” Brett asked, looking warily at Jackson.

“I’m with Liam, Kira, and Theo. They’re regrouping everyone, and then they’re going to hunt down Scott and Stiles.”

“That can’t be good.” Jackson mumbled. Sure, he had never liked Stilinski, but he technically was fighting for him. He and Scott were not deserving of Theo’s wrath.

“Wait- who is that? Brett, are you with someone else?”

“I’m with Jackson Whittemore.” Brett reassured. “He was at the first fight, too. He just saved my life. We can trust him.”

“Well that’s great, because we can’t trust anyone!” Mason’s panicked voice sounded from the phone. “Something’s off with Kira and Liam, really, really off, and I think it’s because of Theo-”

“Oh, you definitely can’t trust him.” Jackson said. “You do realize he’s probably listening in on this conversation right now.”

“Nuh-uh.” Mason reassured. “I’m too far away. I’m on the other side of the school. Plus, Stiles taught me this cool trick where you mix mountain ash and wolfsbane-”

“Theo is a chimera!” Jackson shouted, and Brett fumbled with his phone in surprise. “That trick isn’t going to work! You need to get out of there, now!”

“Are you kidding me?” Mason exclaimed. “Oh my god, that makes so much sense!”

Brett gaped at Jackson, but Jackson ignored it. He recited his address. “Mason, meet us here as soon as you can.”

“Are you crazy?” Mason exclaimed. “I’m not leaving Liam alone with the guy!”

“You’re going to have to.” Jackson said. “Or the next person who Theo will manipulate him to kill will be you. Liam’s too far gone.”

Mason swore. “He probably heard me! He’s probably coming right now!”

“So make a break for it.” Jackson consoled. “You’re smart. You already knew something was up. You’re probably standing by your car right now. Mason, you can do this.”

There was silence for a moment, and what sounded like a car door opening.

“I can do this.” Mason repeated. “You know, you’re a lot smarter than you look.”

“Come find out.” Jackson said. “We’ll see you soon.” He hung up, and handed the phone back to a shellshocked Brett. “If you want to leave,” Jackson said to Brett, “now’s your chance. This isn’t your fight, kid.”

“It is now.” Brett said, his face in shock but his voice surprisingly strong. “Mason’s my friend, and now he’s in danger. Liam’s my friend too, and I have to save him.”  
“Mason’s been in danger since the very beginning. Everyone has. Out of everyone here, I know Theo the best. There’s no telling how many people he’s got his hooks into, or how deep. That’s why I have to stay.” Jackson said. “That, and last time I left after slaughtering so many people as the kanima. I have to make that right.”

Brett looked at Jackson funnily. “Look’s like we’re both suckers, then. We’re more alike than you think, Jackson. I did Liam a lot of wrong when we went to school together. I guess I’m trying to make up for that, too.”

Jackson sighed, and emptied his coffee mug. “Here’s to getting sucked back into the vortex of Beacon Hills.”

Brett chuckled, and raised his mug to clink with Jackson’s. “There is no escape.”

 

_Isaac_

“Do you hear that?” Isaac asked Lydia, trying to listen as they sat in the dining room of his old house.

“Hear what?” Lydia asked, surprisingly put together for someone who had just been through battle. But then again, they hadn’t done much fighting. Lydia and Isaac had agreed not to be on anyone’s side. They would not facilitate a civil war. So when the fighting broke out, Isaac had only been looking to keep everyone safe.

_“Lydia,” he asked, once they had moved away from Kira. “Are you okay?”_

_“She bumped into me, Isaac!” Lydia said with exasperation. “Kira still thinks I’m on her side! But she doesn’t look okay.”_

_Isaac followed where Lydia was pointing to see an older woman in a sheriff’s jacket fighting with Parrish. The woman looked to be doing okay, but Isaac could see why Lydia was worried. Parrish looked not right in the head at all, and it was only a matter of time before his insanity won out and the woman would not stand a chance. Quick as a flash, Isaac rushed over and put Parrish in a headlock. “Run!” he told the woman, and she did, producing a shotgun from somewhere, and Isaac released Parrish before taking Lydia by the hand and running like hell._

“Voices.” Isaac amended. “I hear voices. They’re coming from nextdoor.”

“That’s Jackson’s old house, isn’t it?” Lydia asked as she stood up and looked out the window.

“Yeah.” Isaac said. “So?”

“So...” Lydia trailed off, peeking through the curtains to see a light on in the kitchen of the former Whittemore house. “Your first move was to come to your old house. What do you bet Jackson thought along the same lines?”

“There’s someone else there.” Isaac said. “He’s talking to a kid named Brett. Which side is he on?”

“Scott’s.” Lydia said, “but it’s starting to look more and more like Theo’s. This is good. If Jackson and Brett are talking, then maybe they’re like us! Maybe they don’t want to fight anymore!”

Isaac looked at Lydia shrewdly. “You do realize this is _Jackson Whittemore_ , right? He’s not going to want to talk to us.”

“He might.” Lydia said sincerely. “You used to be in Derek’s pack, and you poisoned me once. Never in a million years would I have considered teaming up with you. And yet, here we are. Anyone against fighting is all on the same side, so me might as well give it a shot. You think we can take down Theo and the Doctors by ourselves?”

Isaac’s frown turned to a look of concern as his resolve weakened. The thought of working with Jackson made him want to vomit. But the thought of facing the Doctors alone made him want to hurl.

“Fine.”

Lydia smiled and gave him a small nod. She made to go out the door, but he stopped her.

“Lydia, they’re talking to someone on the phone right now. Some kid named Mason. Ring any bad bells?”

Lydia shook her head. “He’s a good guy. I fought a bezerker with him. We can trust him.”

She turned on her heel and walked out his front door, and Isaac had no choice but to follow.

 

_Jody_

It was long past visiting hours in the hospital, but Melissa had taken one look at Jody, Derek, Ethan, and Danny, and quickly scurried to let them into John Stilinski’s room. Once there, Jody deposited Derek on the spare bed, where he lay, groaning.

Ethan bent down to him and hurried to take away his pain, while Danny checked in on Stilinski, who was none the wiser that they were all there.

Jody sat down on a stool and put her head in her hands.

_No one had come after her at first, so Jody had time to load her shotgun. That changed very quickly, however, when it was knocked out of her hands by a stumbling Parrish. Jody reached to steady him, but the look he gave her was so wild that she instead shoved him away from her. He shoved back, snarling like a hound from hell, and slapped her across the face, trying to knock her out._

_Well. Jody didn’t like that very much._

_The shotgun had fallen out of her hands, so she punched Parrish in the face instead, breaking his nose. Blood ran down her knuckles but she didn’t care. The look Parrish gave her was mad with fury. He sent a roundhouse kick to her chest, which she sidestepped, kneeing him in the stomach in retaliation. Parrish doubled over, and Jody took the opportunity to punch him in the jaw, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. It appeared to have the opposite effect, because when Parrish straightened, he looked downright murderous. He was about to do something, punch or kick, Jody was not sure, but was prevented by a tall, curly haired boy putting him into a headlock._

_“Go!” the curly-haired boy shouted, and Jody did not need to be told twice. Picking up her shotgun, Jody ran, searching for Sam or Dean or anyone, only to run into another werewolf._

_It was Theo. He was covered in someone else’s blood._

_His smile sent shivers up her spine, but Jody did not let that stop her. Quickly, she raised her shotgun, and fired. The rock salt hit Theo square in the chest and he stumbled backwards, but his pain tolerance must have been through the roof because he kept advancing. Jody fired, again and again and again, and each time, Theo stumbled more and more and more, but he still kept coming. The look on his face was pure murder._

_Fed up, Jody removed her pistol from her holster,and shot Theo in the leg with a real bullet._

_This time, Theo stopped advancing, and while he looked no less murderous, he seemed to know when to quit. He glared at Jody one last time before turning and sauntering away, if one can saunter while simultaneously running with a limp._

_Jody sighed in relief and turned, only find Derek and Parrish fighting brutally while Ethan and Danny struggled to break them up. They eventually succeeded, Ethan with several cuts that had already begun healing, and Danny with minimal bruising. Parrish ran for the trees, and Jody was not sorry to watch him go. The clearing was now empty save for the four of them._

_“Pick him up.” Jody said to Ethan, nodding at Derek, who eye’s were fluttering as he drifted in and out of consciousness. “Parrish did a real number on him. We have to take him somewhere safe so he can heal.”_

_“We should go to the hospital.” Danny said. “We can get him an IV if necessary, and he can use Sam’s bed. I’m sure Mrs. McCall wouldn’t mind.”_

_Jody gestured to the opposite direction that Parrish had run in. “Lead the way.”_

“What happened to you two?” Jody asked, looking Danny and Ethan up and down. “It looks like most of your injuries came from Jordan and Derek.”

Ethan shrugged. “One of Theo’s kids attacked Danny after Scott bailed. Probably a misunderstanding. I held him off, Danny shot him with rock salt. He’s a werewolf, he’ll be fine. After that we just tried to break up Derek and Parrish.”

“It was kind of funny, seeing two different sheriffs fight each other.” Danny said. Nothing about this situation was funny at all, but he felt like he had to say something.

Jody shook her head. “That’s something I was wrong about. Jordan isn’t the sheriff yet. The emergency powers John put in place don’t enact until his death. Good to know he wasn’t paranoid or anything.”

Ethan took a break from taking Derek’s pain, and cast a look at Stilinski. “Did he know this was going to happen?”

Jody sighed. “John knew that someday, someone would use him to make Stiles do whatever they wanted. You’re looking at the only reason why Theo Raeken isn’t dead. The Doctors are holding his life hostage.”

“We need a plan.” Ethan said.

“We need to find Stiles.” Danny said. “Make sure he’s okay.”

“We need to find the Doctors.” Jody said, with a steely glint in her eyes. “And make them pay for what they’ve done to my family.”

Derek chose that moment to come roaring back to life.

 

_Parrish_

Alone in the woods, stumbling without a destination, the madness in his head fading with every step he took away from that tree, Parrish had plenty of time to reflect on his actions.

_He had felt fine, at first. Well no, that wasn’t true, he felt like every nerve in his body was suddenly on high alert, but that must have been from the nemeton. He was ready, he was geared up to protect his pack- when someone caught his eye. He was impossibly tall, with long dark hair. Based on description alone, it had to be Sam Winchester. Unfiltered rage flowed through Parrish, and he had no idea where it had come from. It was the same type of feeling he had gotten around Castiel, only far more potent. When the fighting broke out, Parrish went straight for Sam, drawn to him by some kind of dark force. Sam saw him coming from a mile away, of course, and Parrish was on his back before he could think twice. The places where Sam had touched him burned like the salt Kevin had used earlier. Then, Sam was gone, and just as Parrish had gotten to his feet again, he was face to face with Dean. After that, everything was a blur as some force took over, some unearthly rage, and Parrish saw Jody and Derek, and he saw himself hurting them. When Ethan had broken him and Derek apart, Derek looking worse than Parrish would have thought possible, Parrish turned and ran because what else could he do?_

What else could he do?

He could find Lydia. She might know what was wrong with him.

 

Derek

“Wh-What happened?”

Derek woke up surrounded by Jody, Ethan, and Danny.

“We got you out.” Jody said. “We got rid of Parrish.”

“I- I tried to fight him off, but he was too fast... he didn’t have claws but every time he hit me it burned like fire.. and I just couldn’t take it anymore-”

“It’s all right, Derek.” Danny reassured. “You’re fine now. Soon as you’re ready, we’re going to need you to show us where the Doctors’ lair is. We figured we’d give them a piece of our minds.”

 

_Lydia_

To say Jackson looked happy to see them would be the biggest lie of the 21st century. He heard them coming, naturally, and he didn’t take any drastic measures to prevent them from entering so that had to be something. As it was, the four of them, Jackson, Lydia, Isaac and Brett, were sitting around the kitchen counter with four full steaming coffee mugs in the awkward silence to end all awkward silences. Both Brett and Jackson looked like they had been dragged through hell, and Lydia felt slightly guilty about her minimal bruising. A knock at the door sounded, however, sharp and urgent, and she was drawn from her thoughts to the present.

Jackson was up like a shot and at the door before Lydia could blink twice. “Hey,” he said to the person he opened it for, sounding equally relieved and concerned, “glad you’re okay. Come on in.”

Jackson shot Isaac and Lydia a warning look, and then he and Mason walked into the kitchen. Mason did a double-take upon seeing Isaac and Lydia, but said nothing of it, merely sitting down next to Brett while Jackson fixed him a cup of coffee.

It took several minutes of Mason sipping his coffee before he finally spoke. “I turned my phone off.” he said, and his ragged voice revealed how freaked out he really was. “I don’t know if Theo can hack into computer chips but I really don’t want to take that chance.”

“You say he’s a chimera?” Isaac asked Jackson, and Lydia had to hand it to them, they really knew how to hide their hatred for eachother when it mattered.

“Yeah.” Jackson mumbled. “According to Stilinski, he’s the first chimera, and the Doctors’ business partner or whatever.”

Lydia nodded. She really wasn’t surprised.

“How did Stiles find that out?” Isaac asked with amazement.

“He told me. I don’t remember. Something about kidnapping.”

“Theo’s going after him and Scott.” Mason said quietly. “He’s manipulating Liam and Kira and I caught on way too slowly to do anything about it.”

“It’s all right, he fooled all of us.” Lydia said gently, eyes downcast. What she did not say was that somehow, Theo had also fooled _her_. “You caught on when you could.”

Brett cleared his throat. “So what you two are saying,” he said, pointing at Isaac and Lydia, “is that instead of helping Stiles or Scott out, we should form our own team and turn this civil war into a three-front war?”

“Yes.” Isaac said simply.

Mason almost spit out his coffee.

“I don’t think Scott’s in the equation anymore.” Lydia said. “It sounds like it’s more Stiles versus Theo. I think it probably always was.”

“But Stiles was right!” Brett exclaimed.

“But that doesn’t matter.” Lydia said. “Stiles did what he could to help, but he’s too emotionally involved. Whatever love/hate triangle he Scott, and Theo have going on, they need to work it out without endangering the rest of us. Yes, we need to take Theo down, and we need to destroy the Doctors, but we need to do it as one united front, not as two or three armies. If we don’t have everyone on our side, there’s a chance Theo might win.”

“Screw Scott and Stiles.” Isaac added. “This is our Beacon Hills and we’re taking it back. We’ll deal with those two idiots after the threat has been neutralized.”

“That’s very motivational,” Jackson said snidely, “but how do you suppose making this happen? Keep in mind that Theo wants to see everyone sitting at this table dead.” Mason seemed to shrink into his seat upon hearing that.

Lydia barely batted an eye at Jackson’s rude tone. “The way I see it,” she began, “everyone else at the fight probably did the same thing we did. They grabbed who they could and then ran like hell towards wherever they felt safe. We just need to find everyone before Theo does, including Scott and Stiles.”

“They could be anywhere in Beacon Hills!” Brett said mournfully. “Or outside of Beacon Hills!”

“No one said defeating a sociopath and his steampunk friends would be easy.” Isaac replied.

“I’m in.” Mason said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to take Theo down.”

“Same goes for me.” Brett added. “No matter how impossible.”

Isaac, Lydia, Brett and Mason looked expectantly at Jackson, who had been staring at the counter. Feeling all eyes on him, he looked up.

“When do we start?” he asked with a small smile.

 

_Dean_

“Kevin...”

“I’ll ask again, Dean. What the hell did you do?”

_The fight broke out, and some buff guy Dean recognized as Parrish made a beeline for Sam. Sam took him down, no problem, in a way that made Dean think it was his own doing, not the angel’s._

_“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asked._

_Sam huffed out a yes, before something at the edge of the clearing caught his eye. “Is that... Cas?” he asked, and before Dean could answer, Sam took off, leaving Dean with Parrish, who had gotten to his feet and looked positively rabid. A good kick to the chest sent Parrish flying, and Dean was able to see through the mass of people a kid on top of Kevin, his claws unsheathed and poised._

_“Crap.” Dean muttered, and he arrived as quickly as he could, knocking the kid- seriously, how old was he?- onto the ground before doing the only thing he could think to restrain a werewolf empty-handed. He put a boot on his throat. He made the werewolf pass out- if a little slower than usual, he was feeling particularly vindictive that day, before slinging Kevin’s body over his shoulders and running for the hills. They had already been in the car and a good distance away before Dean had remembered Sam._

“It’s Sam, isn’t it?” Kevin asked, and when Dean did not look away, Kevin took it as a victory. “I knew it. I knew it. There’s no way he walks away from almost completing the trials and looks like they never even happened! A week ago he looked like he got run over by a train, and now, nothing? Dean.... did you make another deal?”

The secret was weighing so heavily on his chest, Dean had no choice but to not.

“Yeah, I made a deal. But not with a demon.”

“Then what? A god?” The worst part about Kevin’s voice was that he did not even sound surprised. He sounded disappointed.

“An angel. He needs to heal, Sam needs to heal, I can keep an eye on both of them. I figured it was a win-win.”

“Dean...” Kevin said, and he sounded so sad, “when is it ever a win-win? When has that ever happened? You have to know that this is not going to end well.”

“I know!” Dean said, and good god, he knew. “But any outcome is better than Sammy dying!”

Dean wasn’t looking at Kevin, he couldn’t bear the shame, so he had no idea what Kevin’s reaction was. It was a long few seconds before Kevin spoke again.

“Well what if I die? What if this angel kills Stiles? I don’t suppose you’ve thought that through.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Dean said firmly, and he meant it. He would tear apart the world before he let anything hurt Stiles and Kevin. “I would tear apart the world before I let anything hurt you guys.”

Kevin laughed, and it was not a happy sound. It was the laugh of a boy who had been broken too many times to put back together again. “You just did, Dean! You just ripped apart the world! You just tore apart Heaven and Hell and the little scrap of remaining humanity! You know what-” Kevin stood up, a fire in his eyes, and Dean wondered for half an instant what the fall had done to a prophet of the lord. “-I’m done. I’m not going to forgive you for this. You may have saved Sam but you put _all of us_ in danger, including him, including you. You know-” Kevin laughed again, and it felt like gravel digging into Dean’s skin, “Stiles thought I was replacing him, that you and Sam looked after me so you wouldn’t feel guilty about abandoning him. But he’s wrong. He’s so dead wrong. It doesn’t really matter what you do with the two of us, because neither of us can replace Sam!”

Dean stood up and glowered at Kevin, because no one talks about Sam like that, no one, but Kevin smiled vindictively and Dean realized that he had just proven Kevin’s point.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Kevin said in a deadly whisper. “We are going to fix up this broken little town, because that’s what we promised to do. You are going to take both of your angels and drive off into the sunset. And I am going to watch you go with a big smile on my face because finally I’ll be free. Are we freaking clear?”

What could Dean do but nod?

“Excellent.” Kevin said, and then it was like the conversation- the whole fight- never happened. His grin turned easy, and he flopped down on the floor and tore eagerly into the food Dean had gotten for him. “You just gonna stand there?” he asked after a minute, wiping a stray sprig of lettuce from his lip.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t often that he was in a situation like this. So, robotically, he sat down across from Kevin and began to eat.

 

_Sam_

There were only four people left at the nemeton. Sam, Deaton, Cas, and Crowley. The vestiges of the fight were all across the clearing, blood pooling in random places and upset dirt that would probably never settle again. It was this scene, this residue of chaos, that Sam looked at as he paced.

“Are you alright, Sam?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the size as he analyzed him with the same unnerving stare that hadn’t departed along with his grace.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam mumbled.

Crowley huffed. “Could have fooled me.”

Sam glared and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Deaton speaking sternly.

“Gentlemen, please, we have work to do.”

“Look,” Sam said, pointing at Deaton forcefully, “I know you were a good friend of Bobby’s and all, but that doesn’t mean I trust you! Bobby was a liar but he was the most honest man I knew, you deceive people for the hell of it and because you consider yourself some kind of master of fate!”

“That is more than fair.” Deaton said, in a calm tone of voice. “And on any other day I would have no problem with your hatred. But I think we can all agree that getting these bodies-” he gestured to the dead chimeras “-away from the nemeton is better for all of us, so perhaps we could all work together for a few minutes?”

“Fine.” Sam huffed, because part of what made Deaton so unnerving was that he was usually right. While Sam wasn’t particularly looking forward to hauling a bunch of dead teenagers back to the clinic, with four adult men doing the work, they should be able to do it in one trip.

“Shouldn’t you be in hell?” Sam asked Crowley, as the four moved from the clearing to where the bodies lay.

Crowley looked at Sam like he had grown two heads. “You think I went through all of that trouble trying to prevent you and your half-wit brother from boarding the place up just so I could _go back there?_ Are you insane?”

Well, the jury was still out on that one.

 

_Scott_

“But as I watched the blood and the mercury mix together, all I could think about was how disappointed you’d be.”

“And then what happened?” Scott prodded.

“And then I called Kevin, freaking out. And the rest is history.”

“Stiles,” Scott said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s approximately 280 pages when transcribed into literature. It better be a lot to take in.” Stiles joked, but he looked worried, like after all of this, Scott still wouldn’t believe him.

Given their history, Scott wasn’t sure Stiles’ worries were all that unfounded.

“I believe you.” Scott said. “I believe that you didn’t mean to kill Donovan. Theo must have gotten the facts wrong. I shouldn’t have doubted you, and I’m sorry.”

Stiles looked simultaneously relieved and furious, like he wanted to give Scott a hug and punch him in the face at the same time. Scott couldn’t really blame him. In truth, every time he looked back on his and Stiles’ first fight over this, he had realized that neither of them had actually said outright what had happened. It was too easy for one of them to get the wrong idea. Then Scott had seen Donovan’s body, and he knew that somehow, Theo had been wrong, and Stiles was innocent, just like he always hoped.

“You’re wrong about Theo, though.” Scott said lightly with a joking smile. “He’s a pretty great guy once you give him a chance. I’m sorry he got the wrong idea about you, but it’s my fault for overreacting.”

Stiles smiled, but Scott could see the simmering fury just underneath the surface. He chose to ignore it because Stiles and Theo would have to coexist somehow, and Christ, Stiles wasn’t right about everything.

“You know,” Stiles said, “I would _love_ to talk to Theo, one on one. Give him a call, have him come on over!”

“Great!” Scott said, but he eyed Stiles shrewdly, checking for sarcasm. “Lemme finish patching you up first, though.”

“Sure thing, Scotty.” Stiles said, sitting back on the table, the banter between the two of them not quite what it used to be, but getting there. Once Scott’s washcloth was back on his head, he worked up the courage to ask, “Hey Scotty, what happened to my sword?”

“Oh, the one you got from Ethan?” Scott asked. “The weird dark one? I didn’t have time to grab it, I was too busy getting you. I’m sure one of your brothers picked it up, though.”

Stiles’ leg spasmed and his heart rate increased, to the point where Scott was concerned. Stiles’ words though, put him at ease.

“Of course, Scott. It’s no big deal.”

 

_Theo_

“Hey, what’s that in your hand?” Kira asked, pointing to the slim dark object she had only just noticed. “It looks awfully like the one Kevin was using earlier.”

“Oh this?” Theo asked, holding the sword up to the moonlight it seemed to absorb rather than reflect. He could barely contain the manic grin that threatened to tear his face apart. “It’s just something I found laying around. You ready?”

Kira and Liam nodded, and the three began to make their way over to the library door. Theo twirled the katana experimentally, loving the balance and the dark energy he could feel seeping from it.  
“Good.” he said. Theo looked up at the almost full moon glimmering, and this time he allowed himself to smile broadly, because how could he possibly lose now?

He was right, of course. Even with Jackson and Lydia’s new team, even with Jody’s plan, even with Sam and Crowley’s temporary truce and Kevin and Dean’s even more temporary one, even with Scott and Stiles’ friendship solidified, the fact of the matter was that Theo still held all the cards. So when Theo and his new pack exited the ruins of Beacon Hills High School, Theo breathed in the early morning air and smiled, because he had no reason not to. All he ever wanted for Christmas was hell on earth, and look, he got his wish.

There was a new malice in Theo’s eyes as he spoke again, looking at the empty town of Beacon Hills like it was his hunting ground. And in a way, it was.

“Let’s go take a howl at that moon.”


	23. Begin Again (Act Three)

Ch. 23

Begin Again (Act Three)

“Ow- ow- ow- easy on the antiseptic!”

“It’s a head wound, Stiles, I’m not risking it getting infected!” Scott snapped.

“It’s a head wound, Scotty.” Stiles said with fabricated cheeriness. “They always look worse than they actually are.”

“Well it _looks_ like you’re a dead man walking, so let’s settle for mortally wounded.” Scott chided, but there was no real anger to his words. Like Stiles, he seemed primarily relieved to cast the fighting behind him.

Stiles was wondering how the hell he could tell the truth about Theo without starting the fighting back up again.

“Dead man walking, huh?”

“Yeah, Stiles, how the hell did you get this?” Scott asked worriedly.

“Concrete.” Stiles replied, shifting through the hazy memory of his kidnapping. “The doctors shoved us to the ground outside of Deaton’s clinic to knock us out. Kevin must’ve gotten off easier than I did.”

“And they were taking your blood when you woke up?” Scott asked.

Stiles bit his lip in frustration. “Not exactly. I woke up screaming, and then I woke up again to Kevin saying I had had a panic attack.”

The washcloth patting away the blood stilled again. “A panic attack.” Scott said suspiciously. “Like the one you just had in the woods.”

“Yeah.” Stiles said. “Yeah, when you say it like that, it looks a little odd.”

Scott whirled so that he was in front of Stiles again, squinting at him scrutinizingly. “Stiles, I hate to bring this up, but are you sure the Doctors didn’t do anything to you while you were out?”

Stiles sighed. The thought had occurred to him, but he cast it aside. Some gut feeling told him that Theo wanted Stiles to stay human, in case he was lying about the whole Void Stiles thing.

He was, but whatever.

But it wasn’t like he could tell that to Scott. “I don’t think they did, Scott.” he said with as much conviction as he could muster, looking at Scott’s caring, tired face. “Nothing lasting, anyway. Kevin and Derek would’ve said something.”

Scott frowned worriedly, but disappeared from sight a moment later to continue to tend to Stiles’ head.

“What were they like?” he asked.

 _Scary._ Stiles wanted to say. _With a conviction that makes no sense and is absolutely maddening._ He was, of course, referring to Theo. Theo, at the Doctor’s lair, and at the nemeton, had terrified Stiles. He was a zealous bastard who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and Stiles still had no idea what that was.

Theo wanted a pack. Okay, he had one.

Theo wanted to kill Scott and steal his power. It was looking more and more like that would be incredibly easy.

But then what?

The Doctors had knowledge and power, and most likely a bigger endgame than that. Somehow, Theo fit into it. But how?

“They’re weird.” Stiles ended up saying. “Not creatures of too many words, you know. But I’m starting to wonder if they’re working with someone.”

“Someone in Beacon Hills?” Scott asked thoughtfully. “It might make sense. They do seem to know a lot about us and where we’ll be.”

“Someone might help them pick out the targets.” Stiles egged. “Or hack into police reports, do whatever.”

Scott frowned thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning rapidly. He did not like the idea of someone working with the Doctors without his noticing, but Stiles was right, it did make sense. “Good point” he said. “I’ll start looking. I’ll ask my mom to see if anyone at the hospital is suspicious, and you can ask your dad-”

Mistake. That was a mistake. Scott took one look at Stiles’ heartbroken eyes and Shut. Up. It was too late, though. The damage was done as Stiles curled in on himself, staring at an empty wall with unequivocal disdain.

“That would be nice.” Stiles said bitterly.

“Stiles-”

“No, really, Scott, you’re right, my dad could totally help us out.” Stiles said scathingly. “What was it you wanted him to do?”

“Stiles, I didn’t mean-” Scott tried again.

“No, of course you didn’t mean to, Scott. You just forgot, right?” Stiles asked in a way that was almost deceptively kind.

“Yeah!” Scott exclaimed, relieved, but after a moment he realized the horrible snake trap he had just fallen into.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he looked downright dangerous. “Well of course you did.”

Scott desperately tried to backpedal, but he had no idea how. He opened his mouth and some kind of strangled, choking noise fell out of it. Stiles raised his eyebrows in cruel mirth, but before he could comment on it, the sound of a key turning into a lock made both of them snap their heads around to the door.

“Is that-” Stiles asked alarmedly.

“Yeah.” Scott replied.

“We need to hide.”

Scott nodded dazedly and quickly destroyed all evidence of their presence, throwing away his bloodied bandages and turning off most of the lights before tugging Stiles by the wrist into the room that normally held caged animals. The door to the room had just shut with a click! before the door to Deaton’s examination room burst open.

Stiles was the one next to the window in the door, and he watched as a very tall, shadowed figure grunted heavily before depositing something very long and heavy onto the table where Stiles had been only moments earlier. The object fell with a _thud!,_ and Stiles jumped out of his skin and tried desperately not to scream as he once again stared into Donovan’s lifeless, glassy eyes.

Donovan’s back was lying along the length of the silver table, his head lolling off the edge of it, and in this dim lighting, he almost looked alive, like the flicker of dim light on his wrist could instead be the sign of a beating pulse. Stiles’ eyes were drawn, however, of their own accord, to the gaping hole in Donovan’s chest, where his cold heart should have been. The wound was no longer silver and red but black with dirt. Stiles remembered what Deaton said about the mercury 2.0, that it left a body perfectly preserved. Stiles looked at Donovan’s hands, and swallowed bile knowing that they were clenched like that because the last thing Donovan had done before his death was try to drag Stiles down with him.

Behind him, Stiles heard Scott draw a sharp intake of breath. “What do you think, Scotty?” Stiles whispered, no malice, only fear and a misplaced sense of awe. “Do you think a wrench could have done that?”

Scott shoved him in the shoulder, right where Donovan had hurt him, but oddly enough, the wound did not hurt anymore. What hurt instead were the cuts and bruises and scrapes he had gotten in the past 36 hours alone, some of them from the werewolf standing behind him.

Stiles shook his head, and focused instead on the person who had brought Donovan’s body into the clinic. After setting Donovan down with a huff, the person had stretched, pulling on his broad shoulders in a way that tugged at Stiles with familiarity. Then he spoke.

“Alright, bring the rest in.”

 _What the hell?_ Stiles thought. _What the ACTUAL hell?_ Because last he checked, Sam was supposed to be dying if not already dead. He had seen Sam at the nemeton, but at the time he was so close to passing out, he had written it off as a fever dream. Now though, very much in his right mind, Stiles watched as Sam, _very much alive,_ stopped stretching and opened the door as Cas stumbled in with two more bodies, the identities of whom Stiles could not make out, nor did he want to.

Scott kicked Stiles on the back of his ankle to grab his attention. “That’s Hayden.” he whispered forlornly. Stiles squinted at one of the bodies Cas was gently placing on the floor, and after concentrating in the low light, he could make out a familiar face with silver on her lips.

Poor Liam.

“That’s why he attacked you?” Stiles breathed, and he felt Scott nod. “Then why the hell did you think I had something to do with it?”

Scott kicked his ankle again but was thankfully silent.

Deaton and Crowley entered the room next, also caring bodies, and soon the clinic resembled an underfunded graveyard. Sam looked around at the scene with his hands on his hips, and sighed.

“What do we do with them now?” he asked. “We can’t assume that whoever is looking for these doesn’t know how to get in here.”

“Agreed.” Deaton said, staring at the harshly displayed Donovan with a reluctant interest. “Nor can we assume that my mountain ash barrier will stop them. I suppose we’ll have to use more forceful methods.”

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” Crowley said snidely. Sam glared at him, Crowley ignored it. “I have a spell. A modified devil’s trap, if you will. It will cover the entire floor, and anything less than 100% percent human would not be able to set foot in here. Should work against werewolves, chimeras, anything that goes bump in the night.”

“I suppose that will have to do until we think of something better.” Deaton agreed, albeit reluctantly. “Why don’t you get started?” Crowley nodded and materialized what looked like thick black paint and a paintbrush from thin air, then bent down and began to draw.

Still staring at Donovan, Deaton beckoned Sam forward, who complied. “This body has caused your brother a lot of trouble, Sam.”

“Is that Donovan?” Sam asked, looking at the body he had carried with a newfound disgust.

Deaton nodded. “It’s odd how people fight about things.” he said cryptically. “They pick one problem and fixate on it, a problem that can easily be solved, and let it crumble all of their relationships, while the realer, ugly reason lurks just underneath the surface. Stiles’ problems could have been solved if he had only showed his friends this body. Someone worked very hard to make sure that wouldn't happen.”

In that moment, Stiles was positive that Deaton knew two things. 1, that Stiles was listening in, and 2, what Theo really was. Stiles would not be able to explain how he drew this conclusion, but once it was made, he was sure of it’s accuracy.

“People went to war over Donovan’s death,” Deaton continued, “when that wasn’t what they were fighting about at all. So called religious wars you may have learned about in history were really about old land feuds. This situation is no different. Old problems have a nasty habit of not getting solved, and their residue builds and builds until all that remains of a relationship is ugly distrust. That is what this war is about, not some angry chimera with a deadly vendetta. I suggest that whoever seeks to win this war should find those whom he can no longer trust, and repair it. This is not the sort of situation that can be resolved by force.”

Sam stared at Donovan with a broken resolve. “I should have come here sooner.” he mumbled. “But Dean-”

“Sam, you know better than to blame your brother.” Deaton chided. “Your actions are your own, and you should take responsibility for them. I would advise you to share that notion with Dean.”

Sam sighed, and he truly looked like the world had chosen that moment to settle on his shoulders. “What do I do?” he asked mournfully.

Deaton smiled sadly. “I am afraid to inform you that that is entirely up to you.”

“Hate to break off the moment,” Crowley sneered from a different spot on the floor, the entirety of it almost covered in his drawings, “but the trap is almost finished, and unless you all want to be stuck here until I decide to break it, you should all leave.”

Cas shuffled out of the room and into the adjacent hallway immediately, watching the others with beady eyes. Deaton followed. Sam, however, was more reluctant.

“Would I be stuck here?” he asked, gesturing to the complex array of black symbols that now littered the once pristine floor.

“You still have demon blood in you, Sam, not to mention most humans don’t have a tendency to rise from the dead. I think it’s safe to say that you would be stuck here.” Crowley said, but he looked at Sam with an unsettled expression that Stiles wanted to decypher. Because never in his life had Stiles seen Crowley look at Sam with something akin to fear. “Lucifer’s vessel and all of that,” Crowley continued with nonchalance that didn’t fool Stiles for a second. “This spell is very thorough. I think even former angel and demon vessels would get locked out.”

“It should also keep the chimeras in.” Deaton said. “Technically, they’re still alive. No one should be able to take their bodies outside of this room.”

“Great.” Sam said, and he waltzed out of the spelled room, as Crowley put the finishing touches on one of the back corners, before completing it from the safety of the hallway where the other three men were standing. Crowley pressed two fingers to the last black line, and muttered some Latin that Stiles was unable to decipher. Momentarily, all of the symbols in the room flashed a brilliant purple before settling back into their unassuming black.

Cas and Crowley turned their backs on the clinic and began to walk away. Sam and Deaton turned to follow.

“We need to go find Dean.” Sam said. “He might be with Stiles.”

“Now, I might suggest a different objective...” Deaton was saying, but the four were making their way down the hallway and out the door, and Stiles could no longer hear what they were saying.

Stiles waited one second, two seconds, three, four, five. Then he nudged Scott on the shoulder. “Are they gone?”

Scott nodded, and Stiles wasted no time turning the handle and opening the door. Scott and Stiles spilled out of the cage room, onto the lavishly decorated floor. Stiles stumbled to a halt a few feet from the table with Donovan’s body, and used his mighty self control to not look at it. Instead, he looked at the wall behind it, where all of the other chimeras were stacked unceremoniously against it. Stiles’ stomach churned.

“Stiles,” Scott said, looking up from where he had been tracing one of Crowley’s symbols. “You realize we’re trapped here, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles said, looking at the edge of Crowley’s trap with a forlorn gaze. “You’re a werewolf and I used to be possessed. Neither of us are getting out of here.”

Stiles plopped down on the floor next to Scott, sitting cross legged.

“Why’d you let it happen, then?” Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. “I think it’s for the best. We put our packs at war. Maybe staying out of it will help them heal.” _And this way Theo can’t get to you. Or me._

“But we can’t fight the Doctors if we’re stuck here!” Scott exclaimed. “Or save your dad, or look for Malia, or help anyone!”

“That’s the thing you need to realize, Scott.” Stiles said, also tracing a symbol with his fingertips. Something about the trap looked familiar, something that tugged on his brain, but for the life of him, Stiles could not recall it. “Not everyone in our pack needs our help.”

Scott sulked. “Deaton knew we were here.” he mumbled. “I’m sure of it. Why would he trap us here?”

“Maybe he thought he was doing us a favor.” Stiles said. “I’m starting to think so.” Scott scoffed, and Stiles glared at him, unimpressed. “Think about what he said, Scott. He was talking right to us.”

“He wants us to find out who we can trust.”

Stiles shot Scott a meaningful look. “Scott, do you trust me?”

“Of course, Stiles.” Scott said, without even thinking, but right away he knew it was true.

“Why?”

“It’s like Deaton said.” Scott replied. “I never fully forgave you for the Alexander debacle, or New Orleans, or the Nogitsune, or lying to me about who you really were. I let that go unchecked, and it clouded my judgement when I found out you were hiding something else. Instead of asking questions, I immediately assumed the worst. I see that now.”

Stiles nodded. “Good. Then trust me when I say that you’re in the dark about a lot of things. You see that door?” Stiles gestured to the unassuming wooden door that led to the hallway of the clinic. “Sooner or later, someone is going to come walking through that door, looking for us. It might be someone we’ve known for years, it might be someone you’ve known for days. Whoever it is, We. Cannot. Trust. Them. We don’t have packs anymore, Scott. The fight at the nemeton was probably insane, and everybody is certainly scattered to the winds, with new allegiances and new goals. You ran off right away with me, which means no one is going to trust us anymore. So whether it’s my brother or your beta, whoever walks through that door is immediately the enemy, and you search as hard as you can until you find the flaw in their story. Understand?”

Scott nodded once, curtly. Stiles did have a point. He had no idea what was happening with his pack right now, and abandoning them certainly didn’t do himself any favors. Something weird was going on with Parrish, Lydia was clearly hiding something, Liam had attacked him, Kira was acting distant.... no, Stiles was right. It was better to be safe than sorry.

“Not even your brothers?” Scott asked incredulously. “We can’t even trust Sam and Dean?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Two hours ago, someone told me that Sam was dying.” he said harshly. “Inches away from death, actually. You just saw him, Scott. He looked healthy as a clam. There’s something I don’t know that’s going on, and I can bet that Dean was behind it. No, we can’t trust my brothers. I don’t think we ever could.”

“That’s cold, Stiles.” Scott said remorsefully.

“Cold like Donovan’s dead body, Scott.” Stiles replied. He shifted so that he had a better view of all the symbols in front of him, which he instantly began to study. “Now get comfortable. There’s a lot of work we need to do.”

 

Far far away, but much less further than Stiles would have liked, Theo was surveying the early morning air with a predatory gleam in his eyes, Stiles’ sword in a vice-like grip in his hand.

“Kira, check Stiles’ house. Scott might have taken him there. Liam, call Melissa, find out what she knows, and then check the treatment plant. Both of you call me immediately if you find anything.”

Liam nodded curtly, but Kira looked a little unsure. “Where are you going to go?” she asked.

“Deaton’s clinic.” Theo said with a smile. “Scott and Stiles are both very predictable. If they aren’t at any of those three places, it’s still only a matter of time before we find them.”

“And we’re just going to talk, right? Explain why we don’t think they should be in charge anymore?” Kira asked worriedly, eyeing the sword in Theo’s hand like it unsettled her deeply. Seeing this, Theo raised the sword and ran his thumb along the edge of the blade in an almost caring gesture. Kira shrunk back with something that looked a lot like fear.

“Of course.” Theo reassured. “We’re just going to talk.”

Kira frowned, but did not object any further as she and Liam slinked off and disappeared into the darkness.

Theo continued to stroke the sword, eyes turning yellow as he looked at the setting moon. In the short time he had known Scott, Theo had quickly picked up Scott’s patterns. Stiles was injured, and Scott would take him to the one place he trusted to heal him, the one place he still felt safe. Deaton’s clinic. Scott was there. Theo was sure of it.

Theo smirked as he sheathed Stiles’ sword, well, his sword now. Setting a brisk pace, he began to make his way across town. He was looking forward to seeing Stiles again. After all, they had so much to _talk_ about.


	24. Silver

Ch. 24

Silver

Kevin could not believe his rotten luck. Seriously. He had been captured and tortured by demons, what, five times? Six? He had lost count. Crowley was a creature who haunted his dreams and who Kevin itched to drive a sword through, and now here he was, standing outside of the warehouse, with three other people Kevin absolutely did not trust, saying sorry.

“Sorry?” Kevin repeated. “Sorry. You’re saying sorry.”

Dean was behind him somewhere, Kevin didn’t really care. But Crowley was in front of him with a nod and a look that could almost be considered apologetic. Almost.

“You think saying sorry is going to make up for all the times you tortured me, threatened to kill my mother, actually killed my mother, cut off my finger, put me in a chokehold, and generally referred to me as a commodity rather than a human being. The psychological trauma _alone_ , Crowley.” Kevin wasn’t even shouting. He was staring at Crowley, dumbfounded, his tone flat in utter disbelief.

Crowley tried to smile, but it looked more like a twisted grimace. “Bygones be bygones?” he tried again, with a shrug. He tried to move past Kevin and into the warehouse, but Kevin blocked him.

“Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you in here.” Kevin said. “Once in hell was certainly enough. And you,” he cast his eyes accusingly towards Deaton, Sam, and Cas, all of which looked somewhat sheepish. “What do any of you have to say?”

Sam cleared his throat. Kevin’s eyes snapped to him, and he watched Sam’s every movement with hyper awareness and blatant distrust. Sam, aware of this, shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Kevin,” Sam said, “I understand if you’re feeling a little reluctant to trust us-”

“-a little is a bit of an understatement, Sam-”

“-but we’re trying to help Beacon Hills, just like you. We all have the same goal. If we work together, that can be accomplished quicker, and we can head back to the bunker and-”

“-and do what, Sam? Deal with one hundred thousand falling angels?”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely, and Kevin looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he had heard the angel speak since the fall. “We will. Because it is our duty. But right now, our duty is holding up an old promise that has been far too late in being paid.”

Kevin grimaced, but gradually took a few steps back from the door, allowing Cas, Crowley and Deaton to pass him and head to where Dean was pacing. Sam tried to follow, but Kevin reached out and slapped a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“You’re not in your right head, Sam.” Kevin muttered threateningly. “You do anything funny and I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your knee.”

Sam frowned at the threat. “You’re starting to sound a lot like Stiles.”

“Good.” Kevin said. “He’s the only sane one around here.”

Same made for the warehouse again, but once again, Kevin stopped him.

“You should know,” he said, “That I’m not coming back with you. I’m staying here with Stiles. You want me to fight angels, figure out how I can do it from California.” Sam frowned again, this time looking a great deal more concerned, but Kevin headed off his argument. “I’m an adult, Sam. This is my call to make, my choice. It’s already done.”

“So be it.” Sam said, not ominously at all, and he shoved past Kevin into the space where Dean, Deaton, Crowley, and Cas were waiting.

Kevin leaned against the wall as the other five stood in an awkward circle. Dean glared at Crowley. Cas stared at Dean with his head cocked to the side, studying him. Deaton looked at Cas with a small frown on his face. Sam looked at Deaton with heavy suspicion. And Crowley looked at Sam with something akin to fear.

Kevin looked at all of them like they were utterly insane. In all fairness, he was right.

Deaton cleared his throat. “I have my suspicions that the doctors have an ally, a chimera named Theo masquerading as a werewolf.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. Dean looked angry.

“We already knew that!” Sam said vindictively. “It was one of the first things Stiles told us! He probably tried to tell you, too, only you didn’t listen!”

Deaton looked deeply regretful, which did nothing to quell Sam’s anger. “Stiles was reluctant to share any information with me.” he said, his voice somehow perfectly steady. “He would not even tell me about Kevin’s powers until I prompted him. He felt that my alliances were split, and that I would incidentally reveal something to the enemy. He was right, of course. I had my suspicions about Theo, but did nothing to act upon them. I would have told Scott, and subsequently Theo, anything Stiles would have relayed to me in a poor attempt at looking out for the both of them. It was foolish of me to think that the Doctors would not seek to compromise Scott, and it was foolish of me to not put more faith in Stiles. You were right, Sam. Stiles did try to warn me, with this.” Deaton removed from his jacket pocket the same crumpled letter he had shown Lydia two hours prior. The words _‘Theorize a little harder, Deaton’_ were underlined in red ink. “Unfortunately, I did not decipher it’s meaning until it was too late.”

“You wanna tell us something we don’t know, Doc?” Dean snapped.

Deaton looked only a little bothered by Dean’s aggression. “I have a working theory on how to defeat the Doctors. But I’m not going to tell you. Kevin is.”

“What?” Kevin said, straightening up from where he had been slouching.

Deaton ignored his outburst. “The last time you and I saw each other, Kevin, we had a very interesting conversation. Do you remember the topic?”

“Mercury. The mercury 2.0.” Kevin replied.

“That’s the stuff the Doctors have been using on the kids, right?” Dean asked. “The stuff dripping out of their noses?” he gestured to his own nose rather comically.

“It was on all of the bodies at the nemeton.” Sam said with a repressed shudder.

“Correct.” Deaton said. “It’s properties are unknown and perhaps irrelevant, but what we do know is that all of the chimeras possess it in their bodies, and when injected to the brain, a paralyzation process occurs, preserving the chimeras’ bodies perfectly. The fact that Theo so persistently sought to recover the bodies suggested that this paralysis can be reversed and the chimeras can be restored to their former, living selves. Now, Kevin, what do you make of that?”

Kevin was at a total loss of what to make of that, so he decided to work backwards. “Well,” he started. “The Doctors must already have the chemical that reverses the process. I was down in their lair. There are hundreds of tubes and vials, it’d be difficult to locate if you didn’t know what you’re looking for. Theo probably knows where it is, though. I mean, he’s a chimera, he could get injected with the mercury. It’d be in his best interest to know where the antidote i-”

Kevin broke off, staring at the wall in front of him with a perfectly blank face, his mouth slightly open in wonder.

“Kevin?” Dean asked, walking over and snapping his fingers in front of his face. “You still with us?”

Kevin flinched at the motion, and his mouth closed and his eyes cleared. “I figured it out.” he said breathlessly.

“Well you wanna share with the class?” Dean asked.

Very slowly, Kevin nodded. “The doctors experimented on the chimeras,” he began, “but who did they experiment on first?”

“Theo.” Sam piped up. “He was the first chimera.”

Kevin nodded again, quicker this time. “Theo is just as susceptible to the mercury as the others. It’s why he’s being so careful. But Theo, unlike the other chimeras, didn’t die in the process of his creation. Why?”

“Over experimentation.” Crowley said. “The Doctors got a stable chimera, and repeated the process with the other kids, but then they pushed the limits on the expendable ones, seeing what made them break. It’s sick.”

“Um, yeah.” Kevin said, looking at Crowley with confusion. “It is. But first they had to get it right with Theo. Now how’d they do that?”

“They experimented on themselves!” Dean exclaimed. “It’s why they’re so weird. We already knew that! So what?”

Kevin shot Dean an ‘are-you-kidding-me’ look.

“They experimented on themselves, Dean. With the mercury 2.0.”

“Yeah,” Dean said again. “So?”

“So,” Kevin said in a huff, “it means that in some shape or form, the Doctors are also chimeras.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Kevin said. “Yeah.”

“But if they’re chimeras-” Sam began excitedly, “Then that means-”

“It means one swift jab to the neck, and we can take them down.” Kevin said. “It means we can put them out of commission for good.”

“It’s only a theory.” Deaton said. “But something tells me it is accurate. I think Stiles was beginning to figure it out as well.”

“What makes you say that?” Cas asked.

“Read the letter.” Deaton said. “He said I was on to something. And he also admitted to stealing some of my collection of the substance. Now what could he possibly want with that?”

 

Back in the clinic, Stiles was rummaging noisily around Deaton’s numerous cabinets, while Scott looked on with mild interest.

“What are you looking for?” Scott asked dully. “I could help. I do know where everything is.”

“I’m looking for a syringe.” Stiles muttered, though Scott could hear him perfectly.

“Middle cabinet, top drawer, third shelf.” Scott recited.

Stiles paused, then pawed eagerly for the cabinet Scott had specified. Upon locating an empty syringe, he held it up victoriously. Once his head popped up, however, he looked at his friend with worry.

“You okay, Scotty? You look tired.”

“I should be.” Scott mumbled. “I haven’t gotten any sleep since I died and came back to life. Again.”

Stiles looked at his syringe for a moment, before pocketing it and rushing over to Scott’s side. The wolf in question was leaning up against the wall directly opposite the bodies, staring at the intricate patterns on the floor with a kind of bitter forlornness.

“You can sleep right now if you want to.” Stiles reassured. “We can’t do anything until someone else shows up, and barely anyone can cross into the room anyway. I can wake you up if something happens.”

“No.” Scott said, but his protest was fuzzy with exhaustion. “We need to make a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Stiles said. “I already told you. It’s not my fault you didn’t like it.”

“It’s a stupid plan.” Scott said. “We aren’t going to be able to pull it off.”

‘It’s our only option.” Stiles argued. “Look, you need to sleep. You are no good to me half-dead from exhaustion. Now I have had the fortune of being knocked out several times in the past 24 hours, so I’m good on the sleep front. You are not. I’ll wake you up if something happens, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott mumbled, yawning widely.

Within minutes, he was snoring.

Stiles sighed, looking at Scott fondly for a second before standing back up, reaching back into his otherwise empty pockets and pulling out the syringe.

“Now,” Stiles murmured, analyzing the clinic with beady eyes, “where did Deaton put the rest of his mercury?”

 

In Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Ethan and Danny were busy each taking one of Derek’s hands, before hauling him to his feet with a groan.

“You good, Derek?” Jody asked, as Derek rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck.

“Yeah,” Derek said, “I’m good.” His entire body was sore and he had the worst headache in the world, but anything was better than being dead, something that had surely almost happened. “We really going to do this?”

“Take out the Doctors?” Danny asked. “You bet we are. From the sound of it, it looks like they’ve had something coming for them for a long time.”

“From the sound of it, they’re less than human and nearly impossible to fight.” Derek said dryly. “I don’t suppose we have a plan?”

“Well that’s just it.” Jody said. “We were hoping Stiles might have told you something? He’s been studying the Doctors longer than any of us, maybe he figured something out.”

Derek frowned. “No, I don’t think he did. I mean we were all in the lair together, but I haven’t really gotten an opportunity to talk to him-”

Suddenly, a shrill noise rang out in the cramped hospital room, startling everyone. It took Derek a moment to realize that the sound was coming from his pocket, and it took him a full minute before he was able to retrieve his phone and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Derek, it’s Kevin.” Kevin said frantically on the other line. Derek recoiled in surprise, but he really shouldn’t have been. “Don’t ask how I got your number. Look, I’m at the warehouse where we all first regrouped after the big fight at the treatment plant. I’m assuming you’re with Jody, and maybe Danny and Ethan. I need you to come get me, and bring syringes.”

“Why?” Derek barked. “What’s wrong?”

“If I know Jody, then she’s going to want to go after the Doctors.” Kevin said. “Well I know how to stop them. The problem is, I can’t do anything in my current situation, and I’m about to be dragged back to Kansas. You want me to help you, you’ll need to meet me at the warehouse in 20 minutes. Prepare to make a quick getaway. And bring everybody you’ve got.”

Derek hung up, and looked at his companions. Ethan, having heard the call perfectly, was already rooting around the hospital room in search of syringes.

“Was that Kevin?” Jody asked shrewdly.

“Yeah.” Derek said, just as Ethan produced a wickedly-long syringe that Danny looked at sourly. “He knows how to stop the Doctors. He said to meet him in 20.”

“Alright.” Jody said with a satisfied smirk. “I’ll drive. You get the shotgun.”

“The police cruiser?” Derek asked incredulously. “There’s no way we’ll all fit.”

Jody smiled in a way that was both comforting and absolutely terrifying. “Who said anything about the police cruiser?”

 

“You good?” Dean asked when Kevin walked back in the warehouse several minutes later.

“Yeah.” Kevin said, looking to where Crowley was re-lighting some of the candles with a flame coming directly from his fingertips. “Sorry, it’s just all getting a little overwhelming. Some fresh air was just what I needed. So!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “What’s our next move?”

“Well,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “We know how to destroy the Doctors and Theo, and it’s fair to assume that Stiles does too. We’re thinking of just letting him taking the reigns with this one.”

Kevin’s small smile fell. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Cas said. “We have done enough to hinder this problem.”

“You’re just going to leave Stiles?” Kevin asked, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly, his peaceful demeanor dissipating and leaving behind something far more angry. “You don’t know where he is, if he’s dead or alive!”

“He’s alive.” Dean said firmly. “That kid doesn’t die that easy. Look, Stiles has assembled himself a small army, and Sam and I would just get in the way. Cas isn’t exactly in optimal fighting shape, either.”

“I helped your enemy locate the nemeton in the first place.” Cas admitted reluctantly. “If left unchecked I may accidentally do worse.”

Kevin scoffed. “You’re kidding me.” he said. “You guys are just going to take off? And leave us to face this alone? Jeez, no wonder Stiles is mad at you!”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “We do have other things to worry about.” he said. “Things that are kind of a big freaking deal. And it isn’t just Cas, Sam, and I. You’re coming too.”

“The hell I am.” Kevin said lowly. “Don’t think I know what this is about, Dean.” Dean glared in warning but Kevin ignored him. “I know why you really want to leave, what you’re really running from, who you’re really trying to protect. I’m very disappointed in you, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” Said disappointment was crushing. It was some kind of cruel world where the heroes Kevin had been proud to fight alongside with turned out to be the worst kinds of brothers.

“Kevin may be right, Dean.” Deaton said worriedly. “I’m not going to stop you, but I also think it is unwise to leave. You dedicate your lives to fighting the supernatural. This is such an occasion that requires your assistance.”

Sam blinked, looking at the floor in shame.

“What are you going to do?” Kevin asked Crowley, leveling a glare at him.

Crowley looked unfazed. “If Moose and Squirrel want to run away, that’s fine by me.” he said. “But I’ve made it very clear how important this is. Actually, I have something to attend to for this cause right now, and you’ll thank me later.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and vanished. Kevin never thought he’d see the day where he approved of a demon’s actions more than Sam’s or Dean’s.

Far away, Kevin heard the blaring of an ambulance siren. But in front of him, he watched two of the bravest men he knew hide from his gaze like cowards.

“If I knew where Stiles was,” Deaton piped up, “would that make any of you reconsider this cause?”

Dean crossed his arms. “We’ve made it perfectly clear that we don’t trust you, Doc.” he said. “Bobby may have thought you were useful, but he didn’t trust you either. You tell us where Stiles is, there’s no way I’ll believe you. Like I said, the kid can take care of himself. He probably has some master plan cooked up right now.”

_What the hell kind of excuse is that?_ Kevin internally screamed, the words bouncing of of his skull in rage. Dean didn’t believe Deaton? Dean could freaking _go there_ and _see if it was true!_

“You put too much faith in him.” Deaton said. “He is only human, Dean.”

“He’s a better hunter than either Sam or I were at his age.” Dean said proudly. “He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need us mucking up everything.”

“The difference between you and Stiles, Dean, is that he is alone. Please don’t continue to make that true.” Deaton implored. “I can assure you he would risk you ‘mucking up everything’ if it meant you were fighting by his side.”

_Stiles isn’t alone._ Kevin thought. _He has me. It’s better than what’s left of his pathetic excuse for a family._

“You don’t know anything about my brother.” Dean said threateningly.

“Neither do you.”

_And I don’t know Dean._ Kevin mused. _Not anymore._

Dean jumped back, surprised, then gave Deaton a look of pure fury. “Sam, Cas, Kevin, we’re leaving.” he declared. Deaton quirked an eyebrow, but his expression remained perfectly neutral.

Dean could command all he wanted, but there was no way Kevin was going back to Kansas. He was not going to wear that ball and chain while Stiles fought for his life.

Cas nodded, and walked out of the warehouse, presumably to the Impala. When he opened the door, Kevin heard the sirens again, only this time they were a great deal louder.

Kevin looked at Sam, who’s eyes had been downcast the entire conversation. “You’re not saying much.” he commented bitterly.

Sam continued to not say much. He merely raised his gaze from the floor to the door, and marched out after Cas.

“Kevin.” Dean said, not taking his eyes off of Deaton. “Get to the car.”

_The hell I will._

Kevin huffed, but made to follow Sam and Cas. He knew better than to kick up a fuss. To get what he wanted, he needed to be smarter, not louder. Dean threw one last scowl at Deaton before turning and following Kevin outside. Deaton trailed after the two reluctantly.

When all three were outside in the still dark morning, Deaton spoke again.

“You’re making a mistake, Dean.”

He had to strain to be heard over the wailing sirens, which almost sounded like they were _approaching..._

“No, I’m not.” Dean said firmly. He nudged Kevin’s shoulders, pushing him towards the waiting Impala. “I’m doing what I do best. I’m keeping my family safe.”

“Your family, or just Sam?”

Dean halted at the accusation, and Kevin halted with him. Dean was opening his mouth to serve Deaton some nasty retort, when suddenly, the ambulance who’s sirens Kevin had been hearing pulled into the warehouse’s clearing.

The noise was deafening, and Dean released his grip on Kevin’s shoulders to cover both of his ears with his hands. Kevin took his opportunity and bolted, running towards the ambulance as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, snapping out of his momentary reprieve, and sprinted after him. Dean was fast, but Kevin was faster, running around to the back of the ambulance, where the doors were thrown open by a waiting Ethan and Danny.

“Get in!” Ethan shouted over the wail of the sirens, and Kevin immediately clambered on his hands and knees to the floor of the ambulance. As soon as he was safely inside, Ethan and Danny slammed the doors, right in Dean’s face.

“Go, go, go!” Danny exclaimed, knocking on the wall that separated them from whoever was driving. It must have been Jody, because the ambulance peeled out and away from the warehouse with such a breakneck speed that Kevin instantly associated with the Sheriff. As they made their speedy departure, Kevin took one last look out the windowed doors of the the ambulance. Sam and Cas had gotten back out of the Impala, looking at the speeding vehicle with surprise and awe. Dean was glaring, and he locked eyes with Kevin and shot him a look of untempered fury. Deaton, though, Deaton was backing slowly away into the night, gracing a small smile.

Kevin ripped his eyes away from the scene and collapsed against the ambulance wall, breathing heavily.

“You alright?” Ethan asked, bending down next to him, reaching out to take any pain he might have.

“Yeah.” Kevin stuttered out in between breaths. "Yeah, I'm alright. Who- who's driving this thing? Oh god, is it Jody?"

“Yeah.” Danny said sheepishly.

Kevin collapsed against the wall again, looking a little green. “You guys stole a Beacon County ambulance?"

“Who said anything about stealing?” Ethan asked with a winning smile. “Melissa handed us the keys.”

“Unbelievable.” Kevin murmured. “Well look.” Wincing, he took out something from his pocket, and held it up to the light for Danny and Ethan. It was a small, sealed, silver vial. “Stiles gave this to me.” he said after a deep breath. “Somehow. He must have slipped it in my pocket when I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t sure why until a few minutes ago.”

“What is it?” Danny asked, holding out his hands for the vial. Kevin tossed it to him, and Danny examined it, turning it over in his hands, watching the viscous silver liquid flow from side to side.

“Mercury.” Kevin said breathlessly. “It paralyzes chimeras. It’ll work on the Doctors, too. You guys bring the syringes?”

“Yep.” Ethan said with a smirk, holding up three really, really long syringes. “Remember these, Danny?”

“All too clearly.” Danny mumbled, wincing as he remembered one of them pierce and reconstruct his lung several months prior.

“Those should do.” Kevin said more steadily, regaining his breath. He gestured for both the vial and the syringes, all of which were passed to him dutifully. With steady hands, even in the fast-moving ambulance, Kevin popped open the vial, placing once syringe in it and beginning to fill it, watching the movement of the precious silver liquid with an intense focus.

“Derek’s directing Jody to the Doctor’s lair.” Danny said after a moment of watching Kevin work. “We should be there soon.”

“Excellent.” Kevin said, and something popped into his head, something so _Stiles,_ he just had to say it. “I think it’s time we gave the Doctors a house call, don’t you?”

Ethan chuckled. Danny grinned. And Stiles, wherever the hell he was, could rest easy knowing his work was being carried out.

 

On a road not too far from Beacon Hills, Cas was passed out in the back seat of the Impala, while Sam and Dean were watching the road intently.

“Did I do an adequate job?” Sam asked, his back unusually ramrod straight, and his shoulders thrown back.

“Yeah, yeah, you did fine.” Dean said, both hands tensely gripping the steering wheel. “It was a good call to make. Trust me, no one noticed. Kevin was outside and I was occupying everyone else when you changed.”

“I still think we should have taken better precautions to ensure the prophet’s departure with us.” Sam said in a monotone. “He is our best chance at reversing the fall.”

“Kevin will come to his senses.” Dean grumbled. “In the meantime, we’ll have to make do without him. Kidnapping him is where I draw the line. I’ll worry about that, but you should focus on healing.”

“You do realize that when Sam comes back, he will be very confused.” Sam, or rather, Ezekiel stated. “His last memory will be the six of us in that warehouse.”

“I’ll handle it.” Dean said. “Leaving was for his own good. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if the Doctors got their hands on him.”

“And what of your other brother?” Ezekiel asked. “The Doctors have already, how you put it, ‘gotten their hands on him.’”

“He ended up being fine.” Dean assured, but it sounded like he was convincing himself more than Ezekiel. He still felt guilty at Kevin’s betrayed face, and knew Stiles would have a similar reaction, but really, this was for the best. This new angel catastrophe was the Winchester's fault, and they needed to fix it before things got worse. Stiles needed to understand that.  
“Stiles can take care of himself.” Dean muttered, with so much conviction, that as he glared into the silver morning sky, he almost believed it.


	25. Gold

Ch. 25

Gold

“Hello, Parrish.”

Parrish, who had been stumbling around in the woods alone for god knows how long, whirled suddenly at the new voice, only to find a rather short, dark haired man in a black suit, perfectly at home among the dense trees.

“Crowley.”

“It’s about time you and I have a chat.” Crowley said, strolling towards Parrish at a leisurely pace. “We’ve talked before, of course, but you don’t remember that.”

“Well what do you want to talk about?” Parrish asked, oozing calmness, but mentally he was preparing himself for a fight. He had heard stories about Crowley, mainly how he was the King of Hell and could swindle anyone out of their soul.

Crowley smirked, as if he could read Parrish’s mind. The effect was chilling. “I actually want to talk about you.” he said. “Like most of your friends in Beacon Hills, you must have just had the weirdest day.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t every day that your pack breaks out into a civil war.” Parrish spat.

Crowley scoffed. “Please. I saw that coming from a mile away. Half of your pack is being swindled by a con artist and you’re all none the wiser. No, I was referring to you finding out you were a hellhound.”

Parrish recoiled, his mind racing at a mile a minute. He knew better than to trust Crowley, but if anybody knew about any of this, it would be the King of Hell...

“So it’s true, then.” Parrish asked.

Crowley nodded. “It’s true. You’re not one of those big, invisible dogs that I’ve come to love, but you are an omen for death and the Supernatural.”

“An omen.” Parrish repeated thoughtfully. “Not a cause. That’s something, I suppose. Well is there anything I can do to stop it? I’m having these visions of piles of bodies, and I don’t want that to happen-”

“There’s nothing you can do.” Crowley said harshly. “You predict, not prevent. You cannot control the events you foretell, they control you. If you leave Beacon Hills before it’s disaster has run it’s course, you’ll take a path of destruction wherever you go, only to end up back here. Out of all of the humans trapped on this hamster wheel of an earth, Parrish, you are the only one who cannot escape his fate. That dream of yours will come to pass, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Instead of freaking out at Crowley’s words, Parrish felt an odd sensation take over. He felt almost calm, like knowing of the inevitability of his situation comforted him and took away his panic. “We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?” Parrish asked, looking at Crowley. “I’ve met you before Beacon Hills.”

Crowley nodded, not unkindly. “Your path intersects frequently with that of the Winchesters. I’ve taken an interest with you before. You never seem to remember our conversations, nor will you remember this one, thought that isn’t my doing. I suppose people are just not meant to know their own fate.”

“What is my fate?” Parrish asked. “I’m assuming I’ll die eventually, right? Do I even have a human lifespan? I was just on my way to ask Lydia all of this.”

“Don’t bother.” Crowley said. “There’s nothing she can tell you that I have not told her. She isn’t like you, Parrish. Lydia Martin is as close to human as any supernatural creature can be, you are the furthest.”

“Lydia is a literal omen for death.” Parrish argued. “How can that be almost human?”

Crowley smiled, not a smirk but a genuine smile. It was... really, really, weird.

“What’s more human than dying, Parrish? Nothing, that’s what.”

Parrish sighed. “You didn’t come here to debate supernatural theology with me. There’s something you want.”

“Of course there is.” Crowley said, and just like that, he was back to his snide self. “I want that bastard Theo Raeken dead, and I want that nemeton fixed, so I can go back to ignoring this dreadful corner of the country.”

“What is it you want me to do?” Parrish asked, and he didn’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to take orders from the King of Hell. Something in his gut told him it was the right thing to do.

Crowley smirked, pleased, and told him.

A few minutes later, Parrish was back to wandering the woods, completely alone and with no memory of what had just taken place, but he did have a newfound sense of peace and purpose. He decided not to go find Lydia. Instead, he would go find Scott.

 

Scott, at that particular moment, was sleeping. In that particular moment, on the floor of the clinic surrounded by a hundred black symbols that shaped his prison, he almost looked peaceful. His brow was far less furrowed, his face no longer looked to be in pain. It made Stiles wonder when the last time was that Scott had been happy. Probably far too freaking long.

 

“When was the last time that Stiles was actually happy, Dean? Probably far too freaking long ago!”

“Alright!” Dean snarled, his fingers stretched taut over the steering wheel as Sam fumed beside him. “Alright, you’ve made your point.”

“Clearly I haven’t!” Sam said incredulously, “Or else you’d be turning the damn car around! I passed out in the warehouse, fine, but then you just left, like you assumed that’s what I wanted!”

“Look, Stiles has it handled-” Dean started to say, and Sam opened his mouth wide to angrily reply, but both were interrupted by Cas.

“I believe we’re running low on gas.” he said somewhat timidly.

Sam and Dean simultaneously looked at the dashboard, and grimaced.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean said in amazement.

Fifteen minutes later saw the three of them outside of the car in an empty gas station that had certainly seen better days. There was one abandoned car lurking nearby, and far too many fluorescent lights to make the experience pleasant. The pump wasn’t working, the LED display flashing something indistinguishable that even Cas with his infinite knowledge of languages could not decypher.

“I’m going to go talk to the cashier.” Dean grumbled, stomping off to the dingy building housing a lone worker. The tension practically dripped off of his shoulders as Sam watched him go.

“What are we going to do, Cas?” Sam asked with a sigh as they watched Dean struggle through a conversation with an attendant who was barely awake. “We can’t just leave Stiles. He’ll never forgive us.”

Cas frowned forlornly, looking up at the sky. “Sam, I’m not an angel anymore.” he lamented. “I can’t do anything.” He looked sideways at Sam. “Which is why it was very easy for you to overpower me.”

“W-what?” Sam sputtered, not liking the look on Cas’ face at all.

“You were driven.” Cas said earnestly. “And determined to go back to Beacon Hills. You tried to convince me to come with you, but I refused. I got in your way. So you overpowered me and took that car there,” he nodded at the abandoned car sitting a few yards away. “and made your escape. Naturally, Dean and I have to follow you, and quickly.”

“Cas,” Sam started, “I can’t-”

“You can help Stiles.” Cas said gravely. “Everything else can be repaired. Now hit me.”

“What? No!”

“Sam, I’ve seen you and Dean do this! You need to make it look real!” Cas said urgently, glancing quickly to where Dean was full on shouting at the quivering cashier.

Sam scoffed. “I’m not going to hit you, Cas.” He sidestepped the angel and made his way over to the abandoned car. “Like you said, you were very easy to overpower.”

 

“Lydia and I will go to the hospital.” Isaac said, finishing off the last of Jackson’s coffee. “Sam might be up and kicking, but the Sheriff is still down, so someone is bound to have the same idea we do and check on him. Jackson, Brett, Mason, you guys check Stiles’ house. If I were Theo and were looking for Scott and Stiles, that’s where I would look.”

“You seem to think like him very well.” Brett said cautiously.

“I knew him.” Isaac said with a grimace. “As well as anyone can know a psycho in fourth grade. Remember him, Jackson? I hated him more than you!”

“And yet here we are.” Jackson grumbled.

“You’re forgetting somewhere.” Mason piped up. “The clinic? Who’s to say Stiles and Scott didn’t go there?”

Isaac sighed. “I didn’t forget the clinic. But we don’t know what we’re dealing with and we don’t have the manpower to spare!”

“I’ll go.” Mason offered.

“Hell no!” Jackson said angrily. “No way! You can’t go after a bunch of chimeras by yourself! You’re only-”

“-human?” Mason asked seriously, his expression disappointment. Jackson clammed up. “So’s Stiles. Look, I know I’m not trained or anything, but like Isaac said, we don’t know what we’re dealing with, and-”

“Absolutely not-” Isaac started to say, but he, too was interrupted.

“Let him do it.”

“Really, Lydia?” Jackson asked incredulously, but Lydia didn’t react to his voice. She was staring at Mason with a faraway gleam in her eye. Mason looked less and less confident the more she stared, until finally, she snapped out of it, shaking her head before looking at Jackson with exasperation.

“Let him do it.” she repeated. “I can’t explain this, and you won’t like it, but this should happen. It needs to.”

Jackson glared at Lydia, and Lydia glared right back. There was years of love and anger in her glare, and the desire to shove it all aside for something bigger and much more important than either of the two.

Jackson relented with a sigh, deflating into someone with significantly less hope. “Fine.” he grumbled. “But it you get hurt-” he pointed angrily at Mason’s chest, “It’s on you!”

Mason blinked rapidly, looking a lot less sure about his rash decision, but before he could back out of it, Isaac clapped him on the shoulder in a confining way that he certainly learned from Chris Argent.

“Let’s move out.” Isaac said with a wry smile.

 

Theo stalked across dark grass under a darker sky. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew his cover was probably blown. He knew that not just Stiles’ pack, but Deaton, the angel, Brett, Mason, and even those two gigantic hunters would be gunning after him now. But none of that mattered. Stiles had probably re-earned Scott’s trust, and would be on his way to telling Scott the truth, but that didn’t matter either, not really. Theo didn’t need his cover to pull the strings in Beacon Hills. For once, the truth was on his side.

 

It was an odd sensation. No sooner had Parrish decided to go find Scott, that the location immediately popped into his head. The animal clinic. Scott was at the animal clinic, and Parrish should go there now. The more he walked in that direction, the better Parrish felt, and soon, he felt enough like himself to try to figure out what the hell had happened.

Theo couldn’t be trusted. Somehow, Parrish knew that. Theo also needed to die. Somehow, Parrish knew that, too.

 

“So let me get this straight.” Dean said, his voice deadly calm, as he and Cas sat in the front seat of the Impala, the car barreling at 80 miles an hour the way it had just come. “Sam managed to overpower you and run to a getaway car without even hitting you in the face?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Cas said calmly, his eyes glued to the windshield as he stared into the night with fabricated shame.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Well, you’re human, now. We need to teach you how to fight like one. After we get Sam back.”

 

Sam, at that moment, was also barreling down that same highway at 80 miles an hour, checking his rearview mirror on loop and praying that the moment would never come when he saw two familiar lights flashing back. He was almost there, he was almost there... Stiles would be impossible to find quickly, Sam knew that. But there was one Stilinski who at the moment was relatively easy to located. The Sheriff.

 

A creaking noise startled Stiles out of his sulking. “Scott!” he hissed to his sleeping friend, who sighed and then rolled over.

“Scott!” Stiles hissed again, running over and shaking his shoulder. It took several tries, but finally, Scott woke up, opening his eyes, the weariness evaporating from them in a heartbeat when he saw how worried Stiles was.

“What’s going on?” Scott asked swiftly, sitting up and looking around the empty clinic in alarm.

“Someone’s coming!” Stiles whispered, and. if Scott focused, he, too, could hear the _click!_ of Deaton’s door being opened. On cue, Scott and Stiles looked at the pile of dead chimeras on the other side of the room.

“Remember, you can’t trust anyone..” Stiles said urgently. “You need to hide. _Now.”_

 

At the same time that Mason and Lydia were driving like maniacs, Brett and Jackson were running for their lives, Kira and Liam were swooping with dark intent, Jody’s ambulance pulled into an abandoned building, and Sam and Dean were racing back to Beacon Hills, Theo strode into Deaton’s unlocked clinic. He stopped in the doorway, just short of the intricate black symbols sprawling across the floor. He studied them for a moment, before looking up and seeing Stiles, alone, standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed.

Theo smiled. “Long time, no see, Stiles.”

“Not long enough.” Stiles snarled.

Theo’s eyes flicked to the pile of chimeras, looking especially ghastly in the dim light. “Where’s Scott, Stiles?” Theo murmured. He twitched his sword threateningly.

Stiles locked on the movement, his mouth pressing into a thin frown as anger filled his eyes. Theo looked from Stiles to the sword for a moment before laughing, loud and harshly, the sound echoing off of the clinic’s brick walls and making Stiles flinch.

“Yeah, Stiles, I found this on the forest floor. Figured I might as well take it. Isn’t this the sword you promised to kill me with?” Theo asked mockingly, his tone making Stiles twitch with fury. He smirked and raised his foot to take a step forward, but Stiles raised his hand, stopping him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Stiles murmured. “This,” he gestured to the expanse of symbols beneath him, “is a trap. Designed to keep out anything supernatural. Including you.”

Theo smirked, and his eyes flashed gold. He raised his foot, and slowly, very deliberately, stepped into the room. Stiles reeled back, shocked, as Theo stepped forward again, and again, faster and faster, until he had Stiles cornered against a brick wall, the dark sword pointed at his throat.

“That’s a nice try, Stiles.” Theo said gloatingly, revealing the way Stiles was captivated by the point of his own sword inches from his bared throat. “But chimeras are just human enough to get out of your little trap.”

The only space between Stiles and Theo was a few feet of a sleek black blade. It would be too easy to grab Theo’s shirt and push him backwards, or kick him in the chest, do something, anything, then stand with his back against the wall like a wounded animal. But Stiles stayed completely still. And then he looked into Theo’s gold eyes and did the impossible. He smiled.

“Give him hell, Scotty.”

There was a noise from the other side of the room, and Theo and Stiles turned to see the bodies of the chimeras writhe and twist, a wave dispersing arms and legs, an ocean of ash shifting as the bodies parted and Scott rose from their clutches, casting aside lolling heads and glassy eyes as he slowly but surely stalked to where Theo had Stiles cornered, his angry red eyes halting the confrontation.

Theo froze, and his mouth dropped open in horror, before he whirled on Stiles with an angry roar, plunging the sword forward into Stiles’ throat. Or he would have if Stiles hadn’t used Theo’s shock to his advantage, wrapping his hands around Theo’s wrist and using Theo’s momentum to turn, knocking Theo off balance and slamming him into the wall. Stiles twisted Theo’s arm, and the sword clattered from it pathetically, and Theo showed no sign of pain but his eyes were alight with malice.

Stiles laughed as he held Theo to the wall, a cruel parody of what Theo had done minutes earlier. “You said it yourself, Theo, you’re almost human. Fight like one.”

Theo growled, the claws extending from his hands, but Stiles pushed forward, shoving Theo’s head against the bricks with a _clunk!_ that left the chimera dazed and confused. Stiles bent down and retrieved his sword.

“RUN!” Stiles shouted, and he and Scott wasted no time in bolting, leaving all the chimeras, dead and alive, as they ran for the hallway. Once Scott and Stiles had abandoned the expanse of symbols, Stiles turned, and Scott shouted at him to keep going, but Stiles ignored him. Raising his sword, Stiles pummeled it into the concrete, the black symbols nearest to it igniting not purple, as before, but gold. The gold engulfed the entire floor, each symbol blazing with it as Theo stared in fear. Collecting himself, he charged at a petrified Scott, but was thrown back from the perimeter of the room, hitting his head on the brick wall again, this time hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Stiles pulled the sword out from the ground, and the gold symbols died down to black. Scott turned to look at Stiles with amazement.

“What the- how did Theo- how did we-” his babbling turned more incessant as he looked more and more confused. Stiles shushed him.

“A trap that keeps out anything less than 100 percent human.” Stiles said, looking at Theo bitterly. “Doesn’t that seem a little too good to be true?”

“But Crowley-” Scott tried.

“Crowley is a liar and the world’s best actor. He played Deaton, Cas, and Sam. What he actually wrote down was a mesh of wiccan and celtic gibberish.” Stiles said.

Scott blinked, distressed. “Then how did you-”

“All of it was gibberish,” Stiles continued, “except for that.” He pointed to an intricate looking symbol in the center of the room. It looked like a star had been drawn 7 times over the same space. “That’s Japanese. It confines any living thing to the perimeter of the room. It just needed something with the same magic to activate it.”

“Something like that.” Scott muttered, looking at Stiles’ sword with distaste. “You told me Ethan gave you that.”

“He did.” Stiles said sincerely. “After Aiden pulled it out of his own body. It didn’t vanish with the Oni, and Ethan figured I could use it.”

Scott frowned. “If Crowley played Deaton, then you played me. You made me believe we were trapped in there.”

“I told you not to trust anyone, Scott.” Stiles muttered, looking anywhere but at his best friend. “That includes me.”

Scott sighed, looking at Theo’s unconscious body with distaste. “You were right about him after all. You couldn’t tell me because I wouldn’t believe you. He’s working for the Doctors?”

Stiles scoffed. “That’s a hell of an apology. But no, more than that, Scotty. They’re equal partners. He orchestrated your death. He had me arrested. He hurt my father, he tried to kill Kevin. He had everybody wrapped around his finger and he took them all to hell. But now...” Stiles grinned, and it was terrifying. “Now he’s at our mercy.”


	26. And Now For Something Completely Different

Ch. 26

And Now For Something Completely Different

The ambulance pulled up to the Doctor’s lair with a rather anticlimactic screech. While Jody would have loved to have the siren blaring as they drove straight through the wall and crashed into the lair in a blaze of gunfire and shattered plaster, she knew now was a moment where discretion was advised.

“This is it, right?” Jody asked Derek, who looked a little queasy at her sharp and speedy driving.

“Yeah, this is it.” Derek said quickly. He pointed to a door among the indistinguishable gray wall of the indistinguishable gray building. “I came out through that door.”

“Alright,” Jody said, “Let’s get ‘em.” She hopped out of the driver's seat and sauntered over to the back of the ambulance, throwing open the doors. There, she found Kevin, Danny, and Ethan in various stages of rising to their feet after falling from the sudden halt.

“You boys alright?” Jody asked with a smile as Kevin shot her a weak glare as he used his hands to push himself upright. He grunted and held up three large syringes full of silver mercury.

“Better than ever.” Kevin said with a grimace, also looking queasy. He hopped out of the back of the ambulance, closely followed by Danny and Ethan, who looked much less worse for the wear. Kevin’s shirt was still torn up from the nemeton battle, his arms full of scratches that randomly started bleeding as he held up the syringes. “There’s three of these,” he said, “and five of us.” Danny, Ethan, Derek, and Jody formed a circle as he talked. “I’m thinking our best bet is to give a syringe to Jody and Danny, while I hold on to one as well. The werewolves can get in close, but have to fight with their hands. We can stash them better, and pass them if necessary.” Derek and Ethan nodded in agreement, and Kevin passed a syringe to Danny and Jody, who turned them around in their hands.

“Here,” Jody said, retrieving two shotguns from the back of the ambulance. She tossed one each to Kevin and Danny. “Rock salt. I don’t know if bullets would work, but the force of these should be enough to send the Doctors reeling.”

Kevin frowned. “They can-” he looked concerned as he struggled to find the right words. “I’ve never actually seen this, but Stiles says that they can almost materialize. They’re so fast that they look like computer glitches. How are we going to shoot them then?”

“We be faster.” Jody said determinately, and there was a bit of a manic gleam in her eyes as she said it.

Danny raised his hand half-heartedly. “Hold up.” he said. “Has anyone here actually seen the Doctors before?”

“Uh...” Kevin said. “We actually didn’t see them in the lair. Just Theo.”

Derek nodded in agreement. “Never seen them.”

Jody shrugged. “I’ve been in town for 14 hours. Not much opportunity.”

“I’ve been with you the whole time.” Ethan said with a small frown.

“Awesome.” Danny said sardonically. “Great. We’re about to fight an enemy none of us have seen before that we know next to nothing about, with a couple of needles and some rock salt.”

Jody nodded smally as she took stock of the team. “Sounds about right.”

Danny grinned ferally, and Kevin wondered how much repressed rage computer nerds harbored. “Excellent. Let’s do this.”

 

“Jackson!” Brett hissed, far across town but in no less danger. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yes!” Jackson hissed back, with a scowl. The two were in the lawn of the Stilinski house, hiding in the shadow of the trees. All lights in the house were off, but if they listened, Jackson and Brett could hear a faint rattling noise and footsteps. Someone was inside, and being very careful about it.

“Can you tell who it is?” Brett asked softly.

“No.” Jackson replied, and his stomach panged oddly when he admitted why. “I don’t know any of these people well enough to tell them apart. If it was Stilinski, McCall, or Lydia, maybe...” he trailed off, staring into the dark paned windows of Stiles’ house. Would he be able to, though? Jackson had learned how to recognize people in London, and by then he had been doing everything possible to drown out the memory of Beacon Hills. He was a stranger here, he did not belong. And yet here he was, about to break into the Sheriff’s house, for his ex-girlfriend, the neighbor he condemned to abuse, some random South Dakoten Sheriff, and _Stilinski,_ of all the people.

“Let’s get closer.” Brett offered, oblivious to Jackson’s turmoil. Jackson nodded, and the two slinked closer to the house, ducking behind the shadows of bushes and trees, their progress painfully slow, but rewarding once they were standing on either side of the window, undetected.

“What do you hear?” Jackson asked Brett, who furrowed his brow in concentration.

“Metal.” A swish, a clang, a curse of frustration, the scraping noise of metal on glass.

“Crap.” Jackson muttered. “It’s Kira.” His mind’s eye fabricated the searing cut her blade had left on him in the fight only a few hours prior.

Brett’s eyes widened in fear. “Oh, we don’t stand a chance!” _His_ mind conjured the endless sniper bullets Kira had swiped away from him and his sister. Yeah, they were screwed.

“Why the hell is she here?” Jackson mumbled. “The house is empty except for her, even without being a werewolf it wouldn’t have taken long to figure out. She must be looking for clues.”

“Well let’s help her out.” Brett said with a shrug. Jackson looked reluctant at first, but nodded, and the two positioned themselves diagonally from the window, settling into fighting stances, trying to find the right angle to crash.

 

Melissa McCall had long ago accepted that she did not get paid enough for her job. She worked ungodly long hours, had four night shifts a week, and performed medical procedures even doctors 15 years out of medical school were clueless about. Most of her colleagues took her for granted, and her level of respect was a long time in the making. She was barely home, and rarely saw her son _before_ he became a teenage werewolf. For god’s sake, she was paid by the _hour._

Today, though, was one of those days that made her think that even if they paid her 500,000 dollars a year, she still might not work. Thanks to three nurses being out sick and one on vacation, Melissa had been working at the hospital since the morning after Scott died, which now, at about 3 a.m., was about 22 hours. And what a strange 22 hours it has been. First Stiles was with his weird friend, then not one, but _two_ deadly werewolves who should have been long gone bring _Sam Winchester_ in, then Lydia visits him with some weird banshee vibes, _another werewolf_ comes back, and then a sheriff from _South Dakota_ and one aforementioned werewolf, Danny Mahealani, and Derek Hale come to visit the sheriff, right after Sam goes missing.

The sad part was this wasn’t even Melissa’s strangest shift. Or the most traumatizing. But seeing four deadly werewolves return in one night certainly hadn’t been fun. Which is why, as she stood at the reception desk for her fourth hour straight, Melissa wasn’t even surprised when Liam strolled through the doors, looking banged up as hell with a strange bruise on his throat. Compared to earlier, it was just another Tuesday.

“Hi, Mrs. McCall.” Liam said softly after he walked up to her. His shoulders were taut and he was staring at the floor sheepishly, guilt rolling off of him in waves.

“Hey Liam.” Melissa said with a kind smile. She wasn’t mad at him. It wasn’t his fault. He had been caught up in the full moon and all that emotion that someone had directed into anger. While Melissa wasn’t positive anymore that it had been Stiles, she still hadn’t ruled it out. “What can I do for you?”

Liam shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “I- I was wondering if you’ve heard from Scott.” he muttered.

Melissa blanched. “I thought you guys made up.” she said. The last time she had heard from Scott was last afternoon, where he had said things were fine with Liam and the two were going to talk to Stiles. Melissa had no idea what happened to him since, just that Beacon Hills seemed to have a lot more werewolves than usual.

“We did!” Liam assured hastily. “But I kinda lost track of him after the fight at the nemeton...” he trailed off, looking as Melissa’s face morphed from calm to confused to alarmed. “...you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Slowly, Melissa shook her head. “I think you’d better explain yourself.” she said sternly, defensively. _Nemeton? Fight? What on earth?_

Liam took a step back looking a lot less adorable and a lot more scared. “N-no,” he said. “I’ve said enough. You don’t know where he is. Theo’s going to kill me.”

“Theo?” Melissa yelped. “What does he have to do with this? Liam, _what happened to my son?”_

Liam’s pupils blew to the size of dinner plates, and Melissa stared him down, trying to coax the words out of him. He was shaking, from fear or exhaustion, Melissa wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure who he was afraid of. The only thing she was sure of was that she was in the dark about so many things, and Liam, for whatever reason, was guilty of some of it.

“Liam...” Melissa began scoldingly, and Liam flinched, but before Melissa could finish, the double doors burst open again, and two more people sauntered through. Melissa really shouldn’t have been surprised as Isaac and Lydia joined Liam at the desk, Lydia’s pace controlled and confidant while Isaac’s eyes looked a shade away from yellow.

“Hi, Mrs. McCall,” Isaac said with a smile, somehow managing to sound sheepish while simultaneously clamping a hand threateningly down on Liam’s shoulder. Liam looked positively terrified.

“Sorry to bother you.” Lydia said sweetly, “But we lost track of Liam. Thanks for occupying him for us.”

“Uh-huh.” Melissa said incredulously, eyes flitting from Jackson, to Lydia, to a trapped Liam. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Scott being missing, would it?”

“What?” Isaac asked, horrified. “No! Of course not! Scott’s not missing! He just went out to find some antiseptic for poor Liam’s cuts! His phone died, so we figured....” his eyes melted into his trademark puppy-dog look. “You might have heard from him?”

“Really?” Melissa asked, her voice dripping with disbelief. “How would I have heard from him if his phone died?” Isaac flinched, frowning, and Lydia shot him a death glare. “Liam doesn’t need any antiseptic, he’s a werewolf for god’s sakes! And even if Scott did need that stuff, why the hell would he come here? He has everything he needs at the clinic.”

Lydia’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “The clinic.” she whispered. “Mason was right.” Then, louder, “Mrs. McCall, thank you-”

She was cut off from her apology by Melissa’s pager, which beeped frantically. Looking at it, Melissa cursed. The signal was coming from the sheriff’s room.

“I have to take this.” she said sternly. “And I want all three of you-” she pointed her finger accusingly at Isaac, Liam, and Lydia, “here when I get back. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Without another word, Melissa turned on her heel and stalked off. Now this was starting to look like one of her stranger shifts.

 

Sam parked the old, banged up car and stepped out, not a moment too soon. The engine had sounded a hair away from dying for the entire trip, and pushing the car to 80 miles an hour certainly hadn’t helped. Trepidatiously, Sam looked up to the building he had arrived at. It was a long shot, but Sheriff Stilinski was here. Maybe Stiles was too.

 

The normally bustling reception area of the hospital had chosen that particular moment to be silent and empty, save for a banshee and two werewolves. The double doors creaked, and Isaac, Liam, and Lydia slowly turned to see a tall, menacing figure stalk into the hospital, his shoulders thrown back, his eyes alight with emotion. He walked slowly, intentfully, his head nearly brushing the ceiling as he filled up the space of the suddenly small reception area.

Liam, Isaac, and Lydia shivered as the figure got closer and closer. Then, bravely, Lydia spoke. Her voice shook and her tone was small, but she still tried to sound authoritative as she asked, “Sam?”

 

“On three?” Jackson asked. Brett nodded, and the two took a deep breath, facing the darkened window. “Okay. 1...2...3!”

They jumped, and the world became a flurry of stinging glass as the two tumbled into the Stilinski living room, slamming into the wooden floor with a groan. Jackson lept to his feet, Brett following a second later, and with what little light shone into the room, they could see Kira facing them, a stack of papers in her left hand, her sword held down at her thigh by her right, and her mouth open in shock.

“What- how did you- why didn’t you use the _front door?_ ” she sputtered, but collected herself a moment later. The papers fell from her hand, scattering across the floor as she raised her katana threateningly, her left leg shifting in front of her right as she poised to attack.

Jackson growled, and Brett unsheathed his claws. “Ready for that rematch, now?” Jackson taunted.

She didn’t look ready, and neither did he. Both were still torn up from the nemeton battle, Jackson’s shirt full of claw-shaped holes, Kira’s eyes dark with exhaustion. Nevertheless, Kira let out a yell, and charged, sword rushing forward, and Jackson swiped, blocking the blade with his claws. Brett jumped behind Kira, and tried to cut her legs, but she turned and kicked his hands away before stabbing at Jackson again. Then she raised her sword and twirled, in a perfect circle, cutting across Brett’s and Jackson’s chests, before coming back around to Jackson and slamming the hilt of her sword into the bridge of his nose, sending him stumbling back.

_-A brown boot attached to red hair kicked mightily, but stood no chance against the hand that snaked around her ankle and twisted-_

With a cry, Kira turned back to Brett and kicked him in the chest, hard, sending him flying into a bookshelf. Brett let out an _oomph!_ as he slid to the ground-

_\- “Liam!” a voice cried out as Liam attacked with a roar, only to find a hand wrapping itself around his throat, applying just enough pressure-_

-and winced as the books, and the bookcase, tumbled on top of him. Brett groaned, and, satisfied, Kira turned back to Jackson, only to find him in a similar state as Brett, laying on the ground, eyes dazed as he breathed heavily.

_-Isaac’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as a hand was placed over his head, and it burned-_

Cautiously, Kira crept forward, her dark hair swaying as she stooped to Jackson’s side. Jackson barely noticed her presence, his breathing shallow from exertion. Kira knelt down to analyze his wounds, and gasped. The cut she made was thin and bleeding minimally, but it was accompanied by deeper, ugly gashes that despite being hours old, still were not healing. There were at least 20 of them, in groups of five, marring every inch of Jackson’s chest, and even some of his throat and arms. They were claw marks, that much obvious by the grouping, and were various shades of red, purple, and black, some bleeding, some caked in dried black blood, some with inflamed, ravaged skin unavailingly trying to knit itself back together. Jackson looked practically near death. It was a miracle that he was conscious, let alone fighting at all.

Kira, in a split second decision, decided that, no matter her enemy, she would not fight him when he was down. Sheathing her sword, she looked around the living room frantically for anything- bandages, cloth, water,- not wanting to leave Jackson’s side in case he got worse. Brett had gotten back up, and, noticing her sheathed sword, rushed over to her.

“This is really bad.” Kira said, looking at her own mark on Brett and wincing. She gestured to Jackson’s extensive wounds. “How did you not notice this?” Even in the half-light of the room, the fresh, oozing blood on Jackson’s chest still glimmered black. Jackson’s eyes were half open, and he likely had no idea what was happening.

“I-I-” Brett’s face turned ashen as he took in the extent of Jackson’s injuries. “I did. But- he said he was fine, he said it didn’t hurt, I assumed it looked worse than it was... He acted totally normal.”

“Adrenaline.” Kira replied, tracing her fingers gently over the claw marks. “And he’s probably used to being in pain. I’ve never spoken to this guy, but I’ve heard about him. He seems like the masochist type. Am I wrong?” Brett shook his head sadly. Kira frowned thoughtfully. “Who did this to him?”

“Theo.” Brett said quickly, without thinking. “Jackson snuck up on him at the nemeton, Theo beat him within an inch of his life. Apparently those two have an old history.”

“What?” Kira asked sharply, her eyes narrowed, the gentle concern in them melting to hard resolve. “Theo wouldn’t have done this. This- this is cruel!”

_-”Lydia!” Isaac screeched, as Liam tumbled into him, sending the two crashing onto the linoleum floor.-_

“Jackson wouldn’t lie about this.” Brett said firmly. “I know you fought him in the woods, Kira. He must have looked like hell warmed over. You know it happened there and you must have seen him try to attack Theo. You must know there’s something not right about him!”

“I know!” Kira snapped. “There’s something off about him, I know, but Scott trusts him and-”

“But you don’t trust Scott anymore, do you?”

“No.” Kira muttered. “Because Stiles-”

“Stiles has nothing to do with this, Kira.” Brett said patiently. “The sooner you realize this, the sooner you’ll understand. Theo tried to kill Scott in the library. He practically succeeded. He’s trying to wedge you and Scott apart so you don’t see the truth.”

Kira halted, horror etched on her face. “Oh my god.” she murmured. “He told me... that bastard told me...” She whirled on Brett. “What is he?”

“A chimera.” Brett said solemnly, while Jackson exhaled softly in the half-light.

Kira pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Crap.” she muttered. “I should have known. Crap.” She looked down at Jackson with steely determination. “I did know, I just didn’t want to... We need to get him to the clinic.”

“What?” Brett asked, his head fuzzy from Kira’s rapid change in demeanor.

_-”Isaac! Liam!” Lydia yelled painfully as she clutched her twisted ankle-_

“Jackson.” Kira said methodically. “We need to get him to Deaton’s clinic. He has all kinds of supplies there for treating werewolves, and for some reason, Jackson isn’t healing. We need to hurry.”

“What about Theo?” Brett asked tentatively.

Kira pressed her lips into a firm line. “Funny you should mention that.” she said sullenly. “Theo was on his way to the clinic. I suppose we’ll run into him one way or another. Now grab his shoulders, I’ll get his legs. My car isn’t too far away.”

“What?” Brett sputtered as he made to follow the orders. “You drove here?”

Kira looked at Brett strangely. “Of course.” she said. “What did you do, run?”

“Uh....” Brett trailed off.

 

“Page Dr. Dunbar if anything changes.” Melissa instructed another nurse, before emerging from the Sheriff’s room with an exhausted huff. That had been close, way too close. Something was wrong with the sheriff. His condition was changing in a way that didn’t make sense, and the doctors had barely been able to get him stable again. Melissa had no idea what was going on with Stiles, but she needed to get him here. Now. If only to say goodbye.

Melissa rounded the corner to the reception room, and just like she expected, Isaac, Liam, and Lydia were long gone. In their place, however, was a hulking yet menacing figure that had definitely been unconscious and in her hair a couple hours prior.

“Sam!” Melissa exclaimed, shuffling quickly over to where he stood patiently at the desk. Sam raised his eyebrows at the informal introduction, but Melissa ignored that and plowed on. “You’ve never met me before, I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier when the werewolves brought you in. I’m Melissa McCall. Scott’s mom. I have no idea what sort of hoodoo Dean worked to get you back on your feet, but I’m glad to finally meet you.” Melissa stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’ve heard that you’ve gotten my son and his friends out of a couple of tight spots.”

Sam glanced down at Melissa’s outstretched hand for a moment, hesitating, before taking it and shaking heartily. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. McCall.” he said sincerely. “I’ve heard so much about you from Stiles. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Psh!” Melissa said with a wave of her hand. “I didn’t do much. Just got you stabilized. It was Sheriff Mills who insisted I release you.”

“I see.” Sam said.

“If you’re looking for her, she’s long gone now, though she has a couple of werewolves in tow, all friendly, I’m sure.” Melissa tactfully did not mention the ambulance said sheriff had guilted her into giving. “But I imagine you’re here to see the sheriff?”

Sam nodded slowly. “How is he?”

Melissa’s smile and eager energy dropped. “Not well.” she said seriously. “He was fine- at least, he was stable- for hours but he just took a turn for the worst. If you know where Stiles is, tell him to get here, now.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know where he is. I was hoping you might.”

“Sorry.” Melissa said with a shrug. But then something Lydia had mentioned clicked to life. “You might want to try Deaton’s clinic- you know who Deaton is, right?” Sam nodded. “Okay, a couple of Stiles’ friends were here, looking for Scott, when I mentioned the place, something seemed to make sense to them. It’s a longshot, but it might be worth a try.”

Sam pondered her suggestion for a moment, before saying, “Yeah, that does make sense. Thank you, I’ll be sure to pass on the message to Stiles.” He nodded in thanks before retreating to the door.

“Hey, if you see my son, tell him to call me!” Melissa shouted after him, before the doors swung shut with a _swish!_ and she was left alone, with five hours left on her shift.

 

“On my mark.” Jody mumbled. She held up her shotgun towards the inconspicuous gray door, and Derek, Kevin, Ethan, and Danny stood behind her in single file, weapons raised and claws unsheathed.

“One.”

Parrish nearly collapsed in relief. The clinic was _so close._ He could see the outline. He was almost there.

“Two.”

“Drive faster!” Brett shouted at Kira, who stepped harder on the gas, her car zooming across town as black blood stained it’s floor.

“Three.”

Sam watched from the shadows as a skinny teenage boy approached the doors to the clinic. He hastened after him.

“Go!”  
Lydia woke with a gasp. Jody kicked her way into the lair, guns blazing. And Stiles turned in shock as the last person he expected on earth opened the doors to the clinic and waltzed in.


	27. Devil's Trap

Ch. 27

Devil’s Trap

“Mason?”

“Hi, Stiles.” Mason said with a tight smile, waving hesitantly. “Hey, Scott.” He glanced quickly into the operating room, where Theo, now conscious, scowled at him. “Hey Theo.”

Theo glared, Scott’s jaw was on the floor, and Stiles was just blinking rapidly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mason...” he began tentatively, “but why the hell are you here?”

Mason shrugged. “Lydia is looking for you.”

“Okay...” Stiles said, lips pressed together in confusion. “Okay, sure. Lydia is looking for me....and she sent you?”

Mason nodded, and took a few steps towards Scott and Stiles. He saw the black symbols on the floor and whistled, before looking up at Theo and wincing. “Trapped. That’s rough, buddy.”

Theo grit his teeth and glared. “Traitor.”

Mason scoffed. “Please. Like I wasn’t the next person you were going to make Liam kill.” he said calmly.

Stiles, who had been engaging in a _what the hell is going on?- you talk to him- no you- seriously, what the hell-_ silent conversation with Scott, wiped his head around upon hearing the interaction. “Now, who gave you that idea? Liam?” he asked curiously.

“Jackson.” Mason said, still looking at Theo with an odd curiosity.

“Jackson.” Stiles parroted incredulously. “Right. Jackson. Who is... working with Lydia. Okay, let’s pretend for a moment that that makes sense.”

“Two hours ago, you and Scott were at war.” Mason replied matter-of-factly. He turned his back on Theo to look Stiles squarely in the eye. “I suppose today, anything’s possible.”

“Okay.” Stiles said, then scrunched up his forehead as he thought. Meanwhile, Scott nervously looked towards the doors Mason had entered, keeping watch. “Wait, Mason, you haven’t been here, have you. You weren’t at the nemeton.. how did you get involved?” Stiles sprung forward, and grabbed a startled Mason by the wrists, turning his arms inside and out and holding him steady as he looked at Mason’s eyes, brow creased in concern. “Are you hurt? Did Liam hurt you? Oh, god, did Jackson force you into this-”

“Stiles!” Mason yelped, snatching his wrists back. “I’m fine!”

“Stiles-” Scott started to say.

“Clearly, you’re not!” Stiles replied. “Or you would have enough sense not to come here!”

“Stiles-” Scott started again. Theo shot him a smug _what can you do?_ look, which Scott sagely ignored.

“Lydia was looking for you,” Mason continued, voice escalating in volume. “Isaac, Brett, and Jackson all had jobs-”

“So they sent you?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Yes!”

“Stiles-”

“What, Scott?” Stiles asked exasperatedly, turning away from Mason and shooting Scott an annoyed glare.

“Well, it’s just,” Scott began quietly. “You told me not to trust anyone. You said that anyone who walks through those doors would have bad intentions. So what the hell makes you think we can trust him?” He shot a nod in Mason’s direction, who’s confident demeanor quickly deflated.

Stiles whirled back to Mason, and looked him up and down with a keen eye. “I gotta hand it to you, Scott.” he mumbled. “You might be right. Wanna explain yourself, Mason?”

Scott walked forward so that he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Stiles, and the pair stared down at Mason intimidatingly.

Mason grimaced, and looked back and forth between the menacing figures of Scott and Stiles, as if deciding which one to be more afraid of. His eyes landed on Stiles. “I told you,” he began timidly, “that Lydia is looking for you.”

Stiles scoffed, and Mason winced. Meanwhile, Theo watched the altercation with bemused interest.

“Excellent.” he said sharply. “Great. Why doesn’t she just come and find me herself?”

“We spread out.” Mason began hastily. “Brett and Jackson went to track down Kira, Lydia took Isaac to the hospital to find Liam, but really, they’re all looking for you.”

Stiles scoffed again. “Lydia knew I was here. She knows Scott, she knows where he’d take me. Even if she didn’t, I reek of death. Lydia would be able to track me down from the other side of the earth.”

Mason thought of the faraway look in Lydia’s eyes before she argued for his case, and he was starting to wonder if his gallant bravery had, in fact, been a set-up.

Stiles seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Back up, Scotty.” he said, placing his hand on Scott’s chest and firmly pushing him away. “He’s not a threat. He’s a chess piece as much as the rest of us.”

“You’re the one with the board, Stiles.” Scott said, but reluctantly took a few steps back. Theo’s eyebrow quirked as he listened.

“They aren’t looking for us to help us, are they?” Stiles asked Mason, who gulped and shook his head no.

“They’re tired.” Mason said. “Of whatever drama the three of you-” he glanced quickly at Scott and Theo, “-have spilling over into the rest of the pack. They wanted to lead themselves.”

“They wanted to set a trap.” Stiles spat. He looked at the black lines on the floor with contempt. “Use Scott and me to lure Theo out into the open. I gotta hand it to Lydia, that’s clever. It probably would have worked.”

“Please.” Theo said. “Like I would have fallen for that.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. He gestured to the room Theo was currently trapped in. “You were saying?”

“So they send Mason in here,” Scott continued, “gullible, to throw us off. And then they burst in through the door and overpower us.” He glanced at the double doors worriedly. “But they aren’t here. Something went wrong.”

Mason shook his head. “I- I met up with them after they were all at Jackson’s house. They must have planned this before I got there. I had no idea.”

“Course you didn’t.” Stiles reassured, but he wasn’t looking at Mason anymore. He was studying the floor, the gears in his head turning rapidly. “Damn. This changes things. I gave Lydia this freaking idea!”

“You did?” Scott asked, surprised.

“Yeah, when she visited me in prison.” Stiles said. Scott blanched. “You know I let myself get arrested, Scotty. It drew him out of the woodwork.” he jerked his thumb over at Theo. “‘Your move, Theo.’” he quoted, remembering the brief battle of wits that had somehow turned into a war..

“I thought Lydia was hiding something.” Scott muttered.

“Yeah, well, she must be hiding something else.” Stiles mumbled. He felt a pang of guilt. Is this what it’s come to? Have his reckless actions forced his friends to become such dishonest people? Or were they always like that?

Was Theo right? To fool the pack, did all he need to do was bring out the devils that were already there?

Scott sighed. “Well, you’re always the one with the plan, Stiles. What do we do now?” Again, Scott looked at the doors, but this time he squinted in concentration.

Somehow, what Scott said drove a knife through Stiles’ stomach. He was always the one with the plan. That was the problem. While he plotted and schemed inside his own head, the pack was left to fend for themselves.

“Guys,” Mason said suddenly. Scott and Stiles turned to look at them. “I might have an idea. What if we-”

Mason was cut off by a dull _thunk!_ that made Scott and Stiles wince, and the sound of shattering glass. Mason blinked, looking dazed, and collapsed forward, eyes sliding to the back of his head as he passed out in Scott’s arms, the wound in the side of his head fresh and bleeding, the remnants of one of Deaton’s jars in pieces on the floor.

Scott knelt with a huff as he supported Mason, and Stiles, standing, rushed to look at the head wound. Simultaneously, the two turned to look at Theo aghastly, who gave them a wry smile.

“You said it was my move.”

 

Far across town, Jody stared down the barrel of her shotgun. She shot, once, swiftly, and the lock on the grey door broke off. “Go!” she shouted, and she, Kevin, Derek, Danny, and Ethan, poured into the lair. They stumbled down the grimy stairs into an empty hallway, and walked swiftly down it, their shoulders taut, their ears listening, every bone in their bodies on high alert.

Derek snapped to get everyone’s attention, and gestured frantically to an unmarked door. Nodding, Jody silently stalked over to it, and turned the handle. With a hushed _click!_ that made everyone wince, the door opened to reveal a strange sight. Among the dull green lighting, there were several steel tables, and giant, life-sized tubes, some holding bodies. There were oceans of wires and cords, some attached to the tubes, some belching steam, and at the center of the disarray were the Doctors, who stood, facing them.

_We were expecting you._ Their blank, unnatural metal faces seemed to say.

 

“You-what the-” Stiles sputtered, back in Deaton’s clinic. “Take him.” he said to Scott, and Scott nodded, shouldering Mason’s body as he shuffled around to find some place to lay him down. “Your move,” Stiles said to Theo, raising his index finger scoldingly, “does not mean _throwing a jar_ at my friend’s _head!”_

“He was being a nuisance.” Theo said with a trademark grin, crossing his arms. “I thought I was doing everyone a favor.” Briefly, his eyes flicked to Scott. “You know I’m not going to be here much longer.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles asked haughtily. “Why’s that?”

 

“Move!” Jody shouted, back in the lair, and the group surged forward, dodging wires and tubes and tables as they brandished their weapons with a battle cry. The doctors drew rattling breaths, and their forms stuttered and flickered. Then they were gone.

 

“The Doctors will come for me.” Theo said with a sickening smile.

 

The Doctors, at that moment, were a little busy.

“Kevin, behind you!” Ethan shouted, and Kevin turned and saw one of the Doctors materialize before his eyes. Kevin pumped his shotgun and shot, but the bullet went through clean air. He turned to face his teammates again, but a metal hand struck his face, sending him stumbling back into a metal table, which rolled away, and the loss of support left Kevin sprawled on the ground.

“Augh!” Jody cried, as she shooted non-stop at the Doctor in front of her. The Doctor’s form flickered as he dodged the bullets, but then one was too fast. It hit the Doctor square on the chest and he stumbled back, his arms spread wide as he looked down at the wound oozing silver. The Doctor’s face was metal- heartless, expressionless, but even so he managed to convey surprise. Derek took the opportunity and lept with a growl, claws extended towards the Doctor. He tried to tear out the Doctor’s throat but like a glitch he vanished, leaving Derek empty-handed.

The Doctor reappeared in front of Jody, clearly trying to catch her off guard. Derek yelped, alarmed, but Jody did not react. Her eyes were steel as she whipped out the needle in her jacket pocket and sank it into a chink in the Doctor’s armor right over what should be a neck. Jody pushed the plunger, and the syringe was emptied of the silver liquid. The Doctor did not react, how could he, with his metal plate for a head, but with a _click!_ that sounded like a gear turning, all of his limbs stilled. And with another _click!,_ he collapsed on the floor in a heap, like the metal strings on his steampunk puppet had been cut.

 

Back at the vet, Stiles squinted at Theo suspiciously. “You know,” he said, “there’s something not right about you and the Doctors. I kept wondering why they’d care about you forming your little reject pack.”

There was a crash from the outside, so loud even Stiles heard it, and all three of them, Scott, Stiles and Theo, swiveled towards the doors to the clinic.

“Scott, why don’t you check that out.” Stiles offered.

Scott nodded and hurried towards the doors, though he did look a little reluctant.

The door closed behind him, and Stiles and Theo were alone. The two glared at each other, utterly silent. Then Theo’s mouth curved into a menacing grin.

 

“One down!” Jody shouted.

“That’s great!” Ethan shouted, from where he and Danny were shooting and clawing at another Doctor all to no avail. “We could use a little help here!”

Kevin was still slumped over on the floor, and the other Doctor was standing over him menacingly.

Jody and Derek each made a split second decision.

Derek ran and ducked, sliding past one Doctor’s outstretched reach to get in front of Kevin, snarling.

Jody turned towards the other Doctor, and when he was occupied with Danny, Jody fired, a round of rock salt hitting him in the back. The Doctor stumbled forward, and this time Danny fired. The Doctor tried to de-materialize, but before he could, Ethan grabbed him around the throat and lifted him up into the air. Danny took out his syringe and reached up, injecting the mercury into the Doctor, who slumped forward with a click!, still being held up by Ethan.

Jody, Danny, and Ethan ran to Derek and Kevin, ready to help, but they needn’t have bothered. Derek, somehow, was unconscious, the blood on his head, the floor, and a table suggesting he had been thrown headfirst into the corner of a metal operating table. Kevin, meanwhile, was standing, his eyes alight with cold fury, an empty syringe in his hand as the last Doctor lay at his feet.

 

“Stiles!” Scott exclaimed, running back into the clinic with fear running across his face, his eyes in a panic. “You need to come out here now!”

“Just a moment, Scotty.” Stiles said calmly, his eyes not leaving Theo, who still had that stupid smirk on his face.

“He say anything?” Scott asked, panic toned down a little by Stiles’ tranquility.

“No, just a lot of glaring.” Stiles replied, and Theo quirked an eyebrow. “But I don’t think we need to worry about the Doctors coming to get him.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Scott asked. “Stiles, they’re allies.”

“Yeah, but how close?” Stiles replied. “You know what hasn’t made sense the 48 hours that I’ve known the Doctors and Theo were working together? Why the hell three steampunk demi-gods would put up with a whiny werewolf wannabe just to give him a pack. Why the hell would they care about Theo, beyond what he can offer them? He told me they were ‘perfect partners.’ I don’t buy that for a second. There’s something I’m missing, isn’t there?”

Something flitted across Theo’s face, an emotion that came and went too quickly for Stiles to decypher. But he would bet his house that it was concern.

“They needed him to experiment on, and in return, they promised him a pack.” Stiles told Scott. “Well, there’s your pack.” He nodded at the pile of pale, dead chimeras. “I’m calling your bluff, Theo. I don’t think the Doctors give a damn that you’re captured. You’re just as expendable as the rest of us. Which means you can be hurt, or killed, and Beacon Hills won’t be any more horrible than it already is. You’re out of time.”

“So are you.” Theo said, curiously untroubled by Stiles’ threats. “You’re stalling.”

Scott shot a confused look at Stiles, but it was ignored. “You’re right.” Stiles said, looking at Theo fearlessly. “I’m waiting for something. A message.”

A chime sounded, the bright, peppy chirp so out of place in the serious, sterile area, it echoed across the brick walls. Scott jumped, but Stiles and Theo never broke eye contact. Stiles smirked, but Theo looked confused. Probably because the chime had sounded from his pocket. Slowly, he reached into it, and pulled out something scratched and beaten and metal-and-glass. It was Stiles’ phone. The screen was alight, with five words scrawled across the screen: _Kevin Tran, One New Message._

“The passcode is 4242.” Stiles said chillingly. “And I’d like my phone back when you’re done.”

Brow furrowed in even more confusion, Theo unlocked Stiles’ phone and viewed the message. Stiles kept his gaze locked on Theo’s face, waiting.

_There._ It was nearly invisible. Theo was very schooled at controlling his emotions, but Stiles was that much better at detecting them. Theo’s mouth twitched in the smallest of frowns, his lips moved as if to purse together. He blinked once, twice, rapidly, barely fast enough to be remarkable, and his nose flared, only slightly. He was very, very surprised. But not disappointed. Almost...relieved?

“What the hell?” Theo asked lowly, and Stiles knew he was only slightly acting.

Instead of replying, Stiles opened his hands, and soon his phone flew into them. Turning the screen sideways, Stiles beckoned Scott over and showed him the photo Kevin had sent them.

It was the doctors, slumped forward, unconscious, tied together around one of their grimly glass incubators.

“You were right, Theo.” Stiles taunted. “I was stalling. Now it doesn’t matter what the Doctors want with you. They can’t help you now. You’re on your own.”

“Stiles, how did you do this?” Scott asked.

“Deaton gave me the idea.” Stiles replied. “If mercury can paralyze the chimeras, why can’t it do the same to the Doctors?”

“It’s temporary!” Theo shouted. “I can bring them back!”

Stiles shot Theo an incredulous look. “To do that, well, you’d have to get out of here.” he drawled.

Scott’s eyes flashed red as he glared at Theo. “I can assure you, Stiles, that won’t happen.” But then his face fell. “We need to go. There’s something you need to see outside.”

Stiles couldn’t help himself. “Stay here!” he ordered Theo, then followed Scott out into the dark morning. But right before leaving the clinic, he turned around and mouthed _Your move._


	28. Checkmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading. So, as you might know, there's two more chapters after this, and they're very important ones, however this one here is what I might consider the climax of the story. It by no means resolves anything, and there's more plot and conversation in 29 and 30, however this is the last chapter with fighting. That said, some of the fighting can take a turn towards the graphically descripted, so heads up. I don't think it's too bad, though, if you regularly watch both shows you should be alright. Enjoy!

Ch. 28

Checkmate

Scott and Stiles spilled out of Deaton’s clinic to an unlikely scene. It was Sam and Parrish, on the lawn by the line of trees leading into the forest, and Sam, at least a good 5 inches taller than Parrish, had the other in a headlock. It looked anything but friendly. Parrish was practically foaming at the mouth, his eyes glowing orange, and Sam was struggling to keep him contained, the stricken expression on his face suggesting he was fighting for his life. Parrish was snapping his jaws and clawing at Sam’s arms and moving as much as possible while restrained, causing Sam to stumble back and forth, sometimes into the backs of trees.

“What the-” Stiles started to say, but he was cut off by the sudden arrival of a small black car, it’s bluish headlights blinding Stiles and illuminating Scott’s red eyes, before the lights were turned off in a hurry, and Kira exited the car, followed by Brett.

“How-” Stiles started again, but the words died in his throat as Kira and Brett hastily opened one of the car’s side doors and dragged out, with much difficulty, a body covered in oozing black blood.

“Is that _Jackson_?” Scott asked disbelievingly, and Stiles could only nod dumbly. He was silent for one, two, three seconds, his jaw clicking, and then he sprung into action.

“Ok, Scott,” Stiles said, patting Scott on the chest to grab his attention. “Help out Brett and Kira. Put Jackson near Mason, keep all of them away from Theo, and see what you can do to fix Jackson. You’re a vet, I believe in you. I’m going to go try to break up that.” He gestured over to Sam, who still had Parrish in a headlock and was shouting and trying to reason with the man. .

“I’ll come and help once Jackson’s stabilized. I’ll send Kira once he’s lying down.” Scott replied, and then they separated. Stiles ran like hell towards his death-defying brother, and Scott raced towards Kira and Brett, not a moment too soon. Brett, who was carrying Jackson’s legs while walking backwards, stumbled, and Scott was there to catch him.

“Let’s get him inside!” Scott told the pair, and, as quickly as possible while carrying a 200-pound body, the three hurried to Deaton’s clinic. Scott held the door open for Kira and Brett, but before they could enter, he stopped them. “Listen, there’s something you need to know.” Scott said urgently, “but everything’s fine and we have it under control-”

“-Aw, Scott, did you bring in some more friends?” Theo taunted from somewhere inside the building, and Kira and Brett froze upon hearing his voice, faces ashen.

“He’s trapped.” Scott said firmly, desperate to move past their concern. “Crowley drew some kind of magic trap, he’s stuck, he can’t get out. He can’t hurt either of you, or Jackson.”

“Well then what happened to _him?”_ Brett challenged, nodding at Mason’s unconscious body, just visible from the door.

“Uh...” Scott’s mouth fell open and no words tumbled out. He looked well and truly stuck. But Kira, well understanding of the urgency of the situation moved past this.

“We need to save Jackson’s life.” she told Brett with a steely glare. “We can worry about Theo later.” Considering she was talking about the person responsible for manipulating her against her own friends and a hair away from murder, this was rather brave.

Brett sighed, but relented, and together, he and Kira carried Jackson over to where Mason lay, not in Deaton’s operating room but on one of two tables in the waiting room, Mason lying on the other.

“How the hell did Mason get like this, anyway?” Brett asked angrily as he shifted Jackson so his head wouldn’t be lolling off of the table.

“Theo threw a jar at his head.” Scott muttered, and Kira winced sympathetically. Scott shook his own head and looked down at Jackson, wincing as he took in the black oozing from the twenty purple claw marks “Who did this to him?”

“Guess.” Kira mumbled glumly, her eyes flicking down the hall to where Theo’s voice had come from. “Brett said it happened at the nemeton. After you took off with Stiles.”

“Um... about that.” Scott began, as he rummaged about to find some towels. “Look, Kira, I don’t know where to begin to apologize-”

“Stop.” Kira said, holding up her hand to emphasise the point. “That doesn’t matter. None of us were in our right heads. We can talk about it later.”

“Okay.” Scott said, breathing out a sigh of relief. He studied Jackson’s body, his brows furrowing more and more as he took in the terrible state of his former bully. Then, “I don’t suppose you’d mind helping Stiles with Parrish, then?”

 

Stiles ran like hell towards his death-defying brother and thought about how he had absolutely no freaking clue what he would do once he got there. The trees were getting closer and closer, the grass was as solid as pavement under his swiftly moving feet, and he had absolutely no idea what the hell he would do once he got there.

Sam saw him once he was about eighty feet away. “Stiles!” he cried, strain dragging his voice down, “Help me!”

Parrish snarled inhumanly, Stiles picked up the pace, and he had no idea what he was going to do once he got there. Eighty feet turned into sixty, sixty into thirty, twenty, ten. Stiles’ mind went blank from speed and fear, the only thing making sense to him were Parrish’s orange eyes. He had to save Sam. So he did the first thing he could think of, (mistake, always a mistake.) While Sam’s eyes blew to the size of balloons, Stiles punched him in the jaw. Sam exclaimed in surprise and stumbled back, releasing Parrish from his headlock, and before either could react, Stiles leapt between them and threw his arms out in warning.

Stiles looked back and forth quickly between Parrish’s rabid, orange eyes, and Sam’s hopelessly confused ones. “Does someone want to explain to me what the hell is going on?” he asked threateningly.

Sam, breathing heavily, responded. “I- I was looking for you. Melissa said you’d be here. I was about to open the door to the clinic when Parrish attacked me- Stiles, something’s wrong with him.”

“Wow, really, never would have noticed.” Stiles said scathingly. “What was the message?” he added sharply.

“The sheriff is dying.” Sam said solemnly. “He took a turn for the worse, the doctors can’t explain it. Melissa agrees that something weird is going on with him.”

A brief flash of pain crossed Stiles’ face before it was erased by impassiveness.

“You were at the hospital.” Stiles said. “Did you see Isaac, Lydia, or Liam?”

“No-” Sam began, even more confused, but he was cut off by Parrish.

“Lydia?” he asked tensely, almost like a bark. “Where is Lydia?”

Stiles turned his head and saw that Parrish was glaring not at Sam, but at him.

Stiles shook his head. “How the hell should I know?”

 

Lydia Martin _really_ detested her current situation. Allison had told her, once, before her untimely death, of the time Ethan and Aiden had locked her and Isaac in a supply closet, and Isaac had nearly killed her. Well, here was Lydia, locked in a very dark closet, and oh look, there was Isaac, right next to Liam. She really hoped he’d gotten a handle on his claustrophobia.

Unlikely.

Isaac and Liam were still passed out, ugly gashes gracing their otherwise peaceful faces, and Lydia winced as she shifted from ankle to ankle, pain shooting up her left leg whenever she did so.

“Isaac!” Lydia hissed. “Liam!” She didn’t want to wake them. Both of them would probably panic, leaving her at the mercy of furious claws and yellow eyes, but the door to the dark, albeit spacious supply closet was not only locked, there was a heavy object placed in front of it. Lydia had tried picking the lock with her hairpin, throwing her shoulder into the door, and screaming for help, all to no avail. Of course, it was 3 a.m. The hospital would be ghostly empty and Melissa would not know to look for them.

They were definitely still in the hospital. The sharp tang of antiseptic permeated the very air, even this far away from the source. Even in a remote supply closet. That smell would follow Lydia for the rest of her life, along with the stenches of blood and fire. She needed to get out, they needed to get out.... there was a pit at the bottom of her stomach and a hum in her very bones that sung _death, death, death....._ Something bad was going to happen. She needed to see it.

Lydia tried to remember how she had ended up in the supply closet, but her memories were more than a little fuzzy, artificially so. She was hurt, Liam and Isaac had fought something, that much was sure. But what? Lydia’s last clear memory was seeing Sam enter the hospital, the man who somehow defied her death prediction. Sam....

 

..... who was now watching Parrish with cautious eyes, one of his hands nursing his bruised jaw.

“Parrish?” Stiles asked to the person opposite Sam. “Wanna give your side of the story? No one’s seen you since the nemeton. Where’ve you been? You haven’t just been wandering around the woods have you?” Stiles chuckled a little at the thought, but the chuckle died when Parrish, with a terrifyingly blank expression, nodded slowly.

“No, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“You’re serious.” Stiles said with a fallen face, his hands still raised between the hellhound and the hunter, as if that would be enough to keep them separated. “Well why the hell come out now? And what have you got against Sam, anyhow?” Stiles was racking his brains as he asked this, wondering if it had anything to do with Sam nearly closing the gates of Hell. It was the only thing that made sense....

“I need to see Scott.” Parrish stated robotically, and for the briefest moment, his eyes flicked over to the clinic Scott was inside of, before returning to Sam to glare.

“Why?” Stiles challenged. “Is it a hellhound thing?”

Sam flinched in alarm, but Stiles didn’t notice this. All of his energy was focused on Parrish.

“I need to see Scott.” Parrish said.

“And then what?” Stiles challenged. “Kill him? Kill Sam? Kill me? You’re being controlled, Parrish, either by the nemeton or something- someone- else. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Ironic that you preach about control.” Parrish replied, and the words, along with the monotone, were not his. They were clunky coming out of his mouth, and Stiles struggled to place them with the appropriate speaker.

“Stiles,” Sam asked, sounding almost afraid, “Maybe we should let him see Scott. He might calm down.”

“Scott will come out when Jackson is stabilized.” A voice said from behind them, and Stiles turned to see Kira, her sword pointed at Parrish.

“Then we’ll wait.” Stiles said, with a greeting nod towards Kira, which she returned. “We’ll wait for Scott. In the meantime...” he looked at his ridiculous defensive stance, Kira’s raised sword and cross expression, Sam’s half-heartedly formed fists and Parrish’s blank yet rabid presence. “Nobody move.”

 

“Isaac....” Lydia began cautiously, “Do. Not. Move. An. Inch.”

Liam had woken after Lydia, and now the two were watching Isaac with bated breath. Isaac, who wasn't looking at either of them but at the dark tiled ground, his shoulders rising and falling methodically as he harshly controlled his breathing.

“That's a nice thought, Lydia.” Isaac said with a strained voice. “But someone's going to have to get us out of here, and it isn't going to be you. Besides,” he raised his head, and his eyes glowed yellow. “Claustrophobia becomes a lot easier to handle after being trapped inside your own head for three months.” With a yell, Isaac raised his fist, and punched the door, reducing it to splinters with a powerful _thwack!_ Then he kept going, punching through the door, into the metal of the vending machine blocking the door, into the glass covering the machine, until the closet was nothing more than a hole in the wall attached to a sea of shattered metal and wood.

Lydia stared down at the wreckage in awe. Carefully, she took a step into the hallway, glass crinkling and crunching under her feet. She looked down and up the hallway, her hair rustling silently with the movement. “Clear.”

“Let’s get out of here before someone notices this mess.” Liam said, patting Isaac on the shoulder thankfully, his eyes still the size of saucers.

 

“You got him?” Scott asked Brett, back in the clinic, as the two stared down at Jackson’s body, which was no longer bleeding black, but shining with white bandage tape that glowed under the flourescent lights.

“I got him.” Brett affirmed, next to a small machine Scott had found in some wayward closet that was monitoring Jackson’s vitals. “Go help Stiles.”

Scott nodded and made to leave, but right before he exited, he paused. “Don’t listen to a damn thing he says.” he warned, pointing down the hall towards Theo’s makeshift prison. Then he ran out the door, into the dark morning, and saw the strange scene of Stiles, Sam, Kira, and Parrish in some kind of stalemate.

“Scott.” Stiles commented once his presence was noticed. “Glad you can join us. Parrish was looking for you, though it sounds more like he was sent towards you.”

“That so?” Scott mused, watching Parrish’s orange eyes, and the anger in them. His chest was heaving up and down from exertion, like all of his strength was being used not to hurl himself at Sam, who was standing defensively. The tension between the two was magnetic.

“Who sent him?” Scott asked Stiles, eyeing Parrish warily, noting Kira’s raised sword. “Something feels off with him, wrong.”

“My money’s on Crowley.” Stiles seethed. “King of Hell, hound of hell, it makes sense, right? Crowley programmed our poor deputy, and now he’s a ticking time bomb. He wants to talk to you, though.”

“As if Crowley doesn’t meddle enough.” Sam murmured.

Stiles craned his neck to give Sam an exasperated look, his arms still outstretched. “Well, you should know-” he began, but Scott cut him off.

“What do you want, Parrish?” Scott called, and Parrish’s head whipped around quickly to look at Scott.

“I need to find you.” Parrish said coldly. “You can find Theo Raeken. Theo Raeken needs to die.”

“Well tough!” Stiles said, and yeah, it was all starting to make sense. Poor Parrish, a pawn like everyone else. “Crowley wants that bastard dead, he can come kill him himself. As it happens, we need Theo alive, and he’s sealed off by Japanese warding magic! I’m the only one who can break the spell so you’ll just have to-”

Stiles’ words cut off just as his world did. The next thing he knew, grass was tickling the side of his cheek, and Parrish was punching him in the jaw. Repeatedly.

“Hey! Get off of him!” Sam yelled, and he and Kira surged forward and grabbed Parrish’s shoulders, but just as quickly retracted their burned hands. Parrish’s skin was crawling molten lava, and, uninterrupted, he continued to pummel Stiles’ jaw.

“Scott!” Stiles had enough sense to yell. He wasn’t really hurting, it had been far too long of a day for the pain to start now, but all the blows to his head were making him lose focus. Stiles heard a roar, and then he saw a flash of red eyes, (or was it blue, he couldn’t tell) and then the pressure was lifted.

 

“What happened?” Lydia demanded from the backseat of Isaac’s car, as he and Liam sat up front. “The last thing I remember is Sam walking through the door.”

Liam frowned. “That’s more than me.”

Isaac winced. “Pain. Lot’s of it. I tried to recall, but I got pushed back. Something messed with our memories.”

Lydia eyed the scorch marks on Liam’s back that the werewolf in question seemed oblivious to. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

“What do you think could have done that?” Isaac asked angrily. “Witch? Demon?”

Lydia looked nervously at the clock on the dashboard. “Drive faster.”

 

“Here.”

Stiles blinked at the plaid-clad hand extended his was before taking it gingerly, and before he knew it he was on his feet, with Sam steadying him. Stiles looked around. He, Sam, Kira and Scott were currently surrounding a wounded Parrish, who was writhing on the ground in pain, with four deep, bleeding gashes on each shoulder.

“We should help him.” Stiles said, after moving his jaw around to ensure it still worked. So far, no knocked out teeth. Awesome.

“There’s no need.” Kira said in awe, pointing to the claw marks, which were glowing like the embers of a campfire, a stark contrast to the ash-gray skin. “They’re already healing.”

“You alright, Stiles?” Sam asked softly, resting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder reassuringly. Coincidentally, his hand was right over the wound from Donovan.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, panting a little, gazing down at Parrish in amazement. “Yeah, I’m good.”

That would be the last time in a very long while that Stiles would say those words. The next time would be months, days, maybe a few hours later, but it would certainly feel like years. What happened next transpired over a time frame of 5 minutes and 52 seconds. 5 minutes and 52 seconds, that’s it, that’s all it took, for everything to unravel. You see, Stiles had a web of delicate, carefully crafted lies and truths that spun around the failing Beacon Hills and was possibly the only thing holding the town together. Mind you, this was the boy who existed as a hunter in a town of werewolves. He was the broker of peace, he was the last sane Winchester, he was a lot of things but he certainly wasn’t perfect. ‘The Master of Fate’, Scott called him once, but he wasn’t, not really. There was no way Stiles could have known that something was bound to get tangled in that web of his. Maybe some little snare that got overlooked, until it turned into a snarling mess. Or maybe someone deliberately grabbed a strand and started pulling, unravelling the web until it was a meaningless pile of silk. But either way would lead to the same result: Stiles, vulnerable and alone. There was just no way he could have known.

There was no way he could have known that the person consoling him was not actually his brother.

_“Sam?” Lydia asked tentatively, while Liam and Isaac watched warily._

_Sam’s eyes flashed blue. “Not quite.” he said with a vindictive frown. Then he attacked._

Kira and Scott knelt down to talk to Parrish, but Stiles remained standing, with Sam’s hand still on his shoulder.

“Is this where Donovan bit you?” Sam asked, referring to his hand, and Stiles nodded. His head felt so heavy, his muscles screamed in exhaustion. Sam’s awkward comforting was an anchor among the sea of uncertainty. Theo was trapped, exactly like he was two days ago, the Doctors were tucked away. Stiles almost dared to say that it looked like everything was finally ending.

Which is why the banshee took that moment to pull into the parking lot.

“Stiles!” Lydia cried, but she was so far away, across the entire length of the building, that Stiles had to strain to hear her. “Stiles, that isn’t him! That isn’t Sa-”

“Hey!” A much deeper voice shouted, and Stiles turned, in amazement, to see Dean at the edge of the forest, Cas in tow, just as far away as Lydia.

Dean, however, had started running.

“Hey, you son of a bitch, we had a deal-”

Stiles, Scott, and Kira looked back and forth with confusion between Dean and Cas; and Lydia, Liam, and Isaac, all of whom were now running towards them.

Stiles looked up at Sam. “What the hell is going on?”

Sam frowned vindictively. “Is this the wound? Is this where Donovan bit you?” he asked almost nervously.

“Yeah-” Stiles began, confused. “But it’s healed, it started closing over after- _AAAHHH!”_

Sam’s hand glowed gold with menacing power as he burned into Stiles’ shoulder, his eyes reflecting bright blue in the sudden light. Stiles sank to his knees, howling, and Dean ran faster, murder in his eyes.

“EZEKIEL!” Dean bellowed. “STOP IT!”

“DEAN!” Cas called in alarm as they both ran towards the other angel, “Be careful!”

Dean, of course, ignored this. He, like everyone else, made a beeline for Stiles, who was still screaming, Sam- ‘Ezekiel’- towering over him menacingly.

“Where is the prophet?” Ezekiel demanded, and at the same time, he flung his wrist, sending the panicked pair of Scott and Kira backwards into trees.

Stiles couldn’t hear Ezekiel’s demands. He couldn’t hear anything. His mind was blank with fiery pain and his eyes could only see cruel white light. The rabbid state of Parrish earlier was nothing compared to Stiles now. He was lying on his side in the grass, twitching, his eyes seeing nothing and his lips babbling nonsense.

Dean got there first. He tried to pull Ezekiel’s hand off of Stiles’ shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. Ezekiel, however, instead of flinging Dean into the trees like he had to Scott and Kira, released Stiles. The white-gold light died, and everyone stopped squinting in time to see Stiles collapse into the grass in an exhausted heap. Ezekiel then stood to his full height and glared down at Dean.

Dean glared right back. “We had a deal.” he repeated threateningly.

Ezekiel's face was stone. “Our deal was that I heal Sam and we fix the fall together.” he said. “ _With_ the prophet.”

Stiles sputtered into the grass, groaning and panting, while Dean simmered at Ezekiel with all his fury.

“Kevin wanted to stay here!” Dean snapped, while the pack looked on in awe and anger. “I can’t control what he does! Look, we’re down a man but we’ll figure it out, that doesn’t mean you go hurt my little brother!”

“Which brother?” Ezekiel asked with a smirk that looked so _wrong_ on Sam’s face. “The last thing Sam remembers is entering a hospital on the other side of town. That could easily be altered. How do you think he’ll like knowing that he tortured his own brother?”

Dean’s face turned to gray, gray ash, and he was stunned. Stiles meanwhile, was still motionless, moaning in pain. Everyone wanted to help him, but no one wanted to upset the oh-so-delicate balance between chaos and diplomacy.

There was some part of Scott’s mind, that wasn’t freaking out about Stiles, that is, that wondered which was worse. The wrath of an angel, or a Winchester.

It was Cas’ turn to speak. “You will come with us.” he said sternly to Ezekiel. His eyes held betrayal but he squandered it for Dean’s sake. “Regardless of the prophet’s choices. We are your only hope of surviving the fall. Or, at the very least, surviving that hellhound.” Cas cast his gaze to Parrish, who lay parallel to Stiles, barely conscious. He didn’t look very threatening without his glowing orange eyes and rabid face, but Cas and Ezekiel knew the truth. Hellhounds, Parrish’s kind of hellhounds, could kill angels. Have killed angels.

Ezekiel knew he was beat. His expression soured, to which Dean rolled his eyes, and then his own flashed a chilling cold blue. Sam stumbled, once twice, as he shook his head, gained his bearings, and looked at Dean with confusion.

“What... how...” Sam asked breathlessly.

“C’mon, Sam.” Dean said sternly, with one concerned glance towards Stiles. “I’ll explain in the car. We’re leaving.”

“D-don’t-”

Stiles had drawn his elbows into his chest, and was resting his head on his clasped hands, breathing heavily. At his single, broken word, everyone stopped, even Dean.

“D-don’t-”

Cas, Dean, and Sam were at his side in an instant, crouching down so they could hear him. “What was that, Stiles?” Dean asked hopefully, reaching for Stiles’ oddly unsinged shoulder.

“Don’t come back.”

The words were soft spoken, with no more authority than a child’s voice. But they were clear, they were precise, they rang with the sound of a slashing knife, and they cut, into Dean’s outstretched arm, into Cas’ concerned eyes, into Sam’s worried heart. The words were laden with pain, so much pain, but also a demonstration of how much more pain their owner was willing to take. The words were decisive, and they were final. Dean withdrew his outstretched arm in a snap, Cas’ eyes clouded over in resigned understanding, and Sam, at a total loss, could only follow in their lead. Like zombies, Sam, Dean, and Cas stood in unison and trudged one foot in front of the other, slowly, into the silent wake of the forest. No one moved until only their tan and green backs could be seen.

And then they were gone.

And then Scott was at Stiles’ left side, and Lydia on his right, grabbing his arms and lifting him to his feet as the familiar sound of an engine turning over wafted through the trees.

Stiles, once standing, rolled his shoulder, wincing as a residual burn spiked his nerves. He breathed in deeply, once, and exhaled, once. And he almost missed it.

It was a small dark shape, dancing around the shadows as it zipped lighting fast through the grass, heading for the trees.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted, and Isaac and Liam jumped in alarm, but followed where he was pointing and took off.

“What on earth?” Scott muttered, still clutching Stiles’ arm, but he was answered by the double doors to Deaton’s bursting open, and three more dark shapes flitted from the entrance, moving lightly, and very, very fast.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again, his voice so hoarse, but the pack sprung into action anyway. Kira picked a figure and charged, Lydia hot on her heels, and Liam and Isaac’s twin snarls could be heard near the treeline.

“There’s one left.” Stiles said to Scott, nodding towards a rather tall shadow. “Go. I’ll be fine.” Scott frowned disbelievingly, but Stiles pushed him and he reluctantly took off. The fourth shadow seemed to stumble upon seeing Scott running towards it, and Stiles smirked in satisfaction. The action made him sway on his feet a little, but it was worth it.

Then the fifth figure emerged.

The fifth figure needed no shadow. Nor did he need to run. No, he waltzed out of Deaton’s clinic like he fucking owned the place, his hands bloody, his smile hellish. His eyes glowed yellow in delight as he moved leisurely, a brisk walking pace at best, past the four flurries of shadows fighting supernaturals, eyes scanning the scene calculatively.

Theo moved slowly, taking his time, and Stiles watched with wrecked, beady eyes. And then Theo walked Right. Up. To. Him.

“I must say.” Theo said appreciatively, looking up and down at Stiles’ disarray. Stiles wanted to move but he feared he would topple over. His knees shook and his shoulder was absent of any feeling. “You sure have a set of pipes, Stiles. I heard you scream all the way from my little cage.”

Ok, you know what? Screw injury.

Stiles let out an angry yell and raised his fist, but before he could swing, an ashen hand closed around it. Stiles let out an entirely different yell as he was yanked backwards, hard, and landed on his back in the grass with an _oomph!_ His shoulder didn’t even hurt on the impact. He was too surprised to see Parrish, awake and angry, on top of him, his pale hands wrapped around Stiles’ throat.

In his peripheral vision, Stiles saw Theo chuckle and begin to walk off. But his peripheral vision was starting to fade as Parrish started to squeeze.

Stiles gasped, choked, struggled, but really it was no use. The pressure on his throat was too much to throw off, his limbs were thrashing but they had no goal. His hands were blindly trying to pry off the others but to no avail.

“Crowley-” Stiles managed to wheeze. “Crowley wants T-Theo dead.”

Parrish gave no sign of affirmation or denial, his face stone cold, but his orange eyes seemed to burn a little brighter the more air Stiles lost.

“Hey!” Scott shouted from a dark tunnel far away.

_No, Scott, the chimeras will escape._

“But he didn’t send you to kill him.” Stiles choked out. “He sent you to kill me.”

“STILES!” Scott shouted in alarm.

Theo walked leisurely into the woods, and Scott raced right past him but paid him no heed. One by one, Stiles’ pack abandoned their adversaries and followed their alpha back to Stiles. Stiles, who though the dark morning was starting to look like a dark nothing.

The chimeras melted into the forest, and Stiles watched them sadly go. He thought he saw one of them stop, turn to look back, but he must have been mistaken. With the tightening hands around his neck, it was easy to mistake things.

“STILES!” Came the voice again, much clearer, and it was so loud that it banged unpleasantly around Stiles’ head. “GET OFF OF HIM!” There was a slamming noise, also unpleasant, several grunts, a snarl, the sound of tearing flesh, and suddenly, the hands Stiles was so desperately trying to pry off were gone.

Stiles breathed, once, twice, and his vision returned to him with the sight of two warm, red eyes.

“Scott-” Stiles said hoarsely, then breathed deeply, once, twice. “Ch-che- check-”

“Check?” Scott asked urgently, once again crouching to Stiles’ side his hands hovering over Stiles’ neck of their own accord. “Check what? Stiles, you’re hurt, if you’re not careful, you’ll pass out!”

Stiles breathed in again, a rattling breath that shook his bones. Suddenly, the morning was too bright, the air was too clean, and Scott was way too close. Stiles hit his leg. “Move.”

Scott scooched backwards with awed worry, and extended his hand. Stiles took it, and he was slowly raised to his feet.

Stiles bent over, massaging his throat, gulping down air until his head was clear. Then he straightened up and looked around fiercely, at Scott, Liam, Isaac, Lydia, Kira, and even Parrish, lying dazedly on the ground. Stiles opened his mouth, determined, and his pack waited for his words.

But a few seconds later, Stiles closed his mouth. There really were no words.

Stiles got his pack back, but he lost his brothers, his plan, his enemy, his chance at fixing Beacon Hills for good. His carefully crafted control, gone.

There really were no words for that.

Forty-eight hours earlier, Theo was tied up in Stiles’ safe house, and it looked like Stiles had won.

How foolish of him to think that.

Stiles lost.

In five minutes and fifty-two seconds, the world lurched on it’s axis and the tables turned with it. Stiles lost.  
Five minutes and fifty-two seconds. That’s it. That’s how long it took for the web to unravel, for Stiles to end up in checkmate.


	29. Skeleton Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the second-to-last chapter. So this chapter starts to move into episode 1 of 5b, so if you haven't seen 5b, you will be a little confused. And of course, I'm changing a few canon things. Enjoy!

Ch. 29

Skeleton Twins

They found Brett unconscious on the floor of Deaton’s waiting room. His head was bleeding, but healing. They found most of the chimera bodies, undisturbed, in the operating room. They counted, and found the missing ones to be Tracey, Josh, Corey, and Hayden.

Liam seemed to have mixed feelings about that.

Stiles called Kevin, and gave him instructions for the Doctors. Then he found an ice pack for his shoulder. Then he turned his brain off.

“Hey,” Scott said softly to him, while the rest of the pack were rousing the unconscious. “I know we’re all going back to my house, but if you need to- I mean, if you want to-”

“Visit my dying father?” Stiles asked hollowly. “Do we even know if Sam was telling the truth?”

“Yeah.” Scott whispered. “My mom, she texted me. It’s true, he’s in pretty bad shape. You should go.”

It sounded less like a request and more like an order. Or maybe Stiles’ paranoia was finally catching up to him.

 

It was four a.m. when they were all sitting in Scott’s living room, all except Stiles. Scott was reclining, with Kira curled into him. Next to her was Lydia, next to her a rather dazed Parrish, and Jody was on his other side, watching him warily. She was followed by Ethan, Danny, Derek, a conscious Jackson, Isaac, Liam, Mason, Brett, and Kevin, who was on Scott’s other side.

No one seemed to know just quite what to say, except that it had been a very, very long day.

“Where are the Doctors?” Scott asked, and his sudden voice jolted everyone out of their exhausted fugue-like states.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Still in the lair.” he said hoarsely. “Tied up. Knocked out. Stiles said to leave them, he said we should deal with them when we’re fully conscious. No one will be able to get them, and obviously, they can’t get out.”

“Theo got out.” Jackson muttered bitterly, staring at the floor in sorrow, and Scott winced as he looked at Jackson’s bandages. “How? How did he get out? With four of his goons, nonetheless.”

Scott sighed. “He must have had the mercury antidote with him, woke them up. As for getting out... Crowley must have made some mistake with the trap.”

“Crowley, or Stiles.” Jackson said, not without a little contempt. “He’s the one who activated it, right? Between him or the King of Hell, I’d pick Stiles to mess that up.”

Kevin and Scott shifted in their seats, unsettled, and a murmur swept around the room.

“Hey.” Jody said sternly, the only one in the room without red-rimmed, tired eyes. “It doesn’t matter how it happens. It doesn’t matter who screwed up. What matters is that no one wanted him out, but he got out anyway. Theo is a threat, yes, but he can be contained. Without the Doctors, he’s at a severe tactical disadvantage-”

“But he can wake the Doctors back up!” Danny cried. “And we left them right back in the lair, right for him to find, does any of that seem not right to you?”

“We rigged the door with explosives.” Derek said. “No one’s getting to them without being blasted to pieces.”

“Danny does have a point.” Kira said. “It sounds like the Doctors went down fairly easily. Almost too easily.”

A contagious shudder ripped through the circle.

Scott frowned, but said nothing.

Isaac, on the other hand, looked angry as he spoke. “What about the Winchesters?”

“What about them?” Jody asked aggressively.

Lydia, who had been staring absentmindedly at the wall, flicked her gaze passively to Jody for a heartbeat, before scoffing. “I guess you didn’t hear that Sam is possessed by an angel, then. Or that he hurt Stiles.”

Jody sat up straighter. “What?”

Kevin was silent, guilt scrawled across his face.

“Stiles told them to leave.” Liam mumbled.

“They’re not going to come back.” Kevin said forcefully, his voice laden with guilt.

“Oh really?” Scott asked incredulously, as everyone turned to look at Kevin. “What makes you so sure?”

Kevin gulped, the sudden attention making him squirm. “When Dean feels guilty about something, when he’s wronged someone, he cuts them out of his life completely. Being responsible for.... that? He’s wrecked. He always knew he would ruin Stiles’ life, and now he got to see that firsthand. He won’t be back.”

Liam seemed to relax at that. His hand rubbed his throat subconsciously.

“And Sam?” Isaac asked tersely. His hand reached for the back of his head, where the burns had healed but the memory of pain still seared.

Kevin grimaced. “Sam will do whatever Dean does. Trust me. Stiles won’t be seeing them for a long time.”

“Trust you?” Brett asked incredulously. He looked from Kevin to Jody to Isaac to Danny to Ethan. “I don’t know any of you.”

“That,” Derek said disgruntledly, “Is definitely for the best. You fought good, kid, from what I’ve heard, but this isn’t your fight anymore. You should go back to your own pack.”

Brett pursed his lips but said nothing. Jackson knew the look of someone running from something, but also said nothing.

“What do we do now?” Ethan asked. He looked very, very tired. Coming back to the site of his brother’s death was eating at him more than he let on.

“Theo will have to make a move eventually.” Scott said calmly. “Either for the Doctors, or to advance his pack. When he does, we’ll catch him.”

“That’s awfully optimistic.” Isaac muttered. Mason nodded in agreement.

Scott shot him a look. “The Doctors were a force we didn’t understand. But five not-quite supernaturals, I think we can take.” he said confidently. “Besides, I called in reinforcements. An old friend, Chris Argent. You should definitely talk to him.” Scott nodded at Parrish.

“I need to go find Braeden.” Derek mused. “She and my cousin thought it would be a fabulous idea to go hunt the desert wolf.”

“My parents still think I’m in Boston.” Jackson said with a scowl. Isaac glared at him.

“Pretty sure mine think I’m dead.” Mason said with a deadpan. Only Kira reacted to it, with a weak smile that Mason did not quite return.

“Sheriff, you’re free to go back to Sioux Falls.” Scott said kindly. “Something tells me Theo will be withdrawing his witness statement to the murder of Donovan Donati.”

“Something tells me new forensic evidence will disprove any murder likelihood.” Jody replied. “Make sure those chimeras get turned into the police, Scott. Stiles’ name is already cleared, but it couldn’t hurt.”

Jody stood up, the gun at her hip clinking, and it was like a wave of restlessness washed over the room. Soon, everyone was standing, fumbling for their purses or their jackets, desperate to scuttle out of the suddenly stifling room.

“There’s a pack meeting later today at 10.” Scott piped up hopefully, but as he looked around the room, he knew not all the faces he saw would be there.

Jody made a big show of her departure. She shook hands with Scott, then Ethan, Danny, Derek, Jackson, and Kevin. “Pleasure fighting with you boys.” she said with a smile. “You need to reach me, Stiles’ll send you my way.” She then saluted to all the other members of the pack, shot Parrish a knowing look, and sauntered out the door with a cowboy swagger.

Derek was next. After shrugging his black jacket over his black shirt, he dusted off his black jeans and walked over to where Scott stood, clapping him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need me.” he said so quickly it was barely distinguishable from a grunt. Scott nodded, looking pleased, and Derek locked eyes with Isaac and Jackson for about 2 seconds before rushing out the door into the black morning.

Parrish stumbled to his feet and stumbled out the door without a word. Everyone watched him go with a silence borderline fearful.

Ethan and Danny waited until they were absolutely sure Parrish was gone before making their way to the door themselves. “We’ll be in touch.” Ethan said, giving Scott a firm handshake. “We’ll be staying in town for a couple days, sorting some stuff out.”

“Roger that.” Scott said. He patted Danny gently on the shoulder, and then the couple vanished.

Isaac zipped his jacket, and walked five steps before Scott stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was just gonna-”

“Wrong. Your old room’s upstairs.”

Isaac slinked up the stairs without another word, but if you looked closely, you could see him smile.

Due to Isaac’s miniature dilemma, Jackson had almost made it out of the McCall house undetected. As it was, his hand had just turned the doorknob with a _click!,_ and Scott zeroed in on the noise with narrowed eyes.

“There’s an extra room, Jackson, if you want to stay the night, too.”

Jackson almost said no. And it wasn’t because Lydia looked like that suggestion made her want to hurl. It was because he wanted out, he didn’t want to be tied back down to Beacon Hills, he didn’t owe this town _anything...._ except for the fact that Scott saved his life. That could not be ignored. And if Jackson hated Beacon Hills so much, then why had he come back in the first place.

Jackson scoffed. “Whatever, McCall.” Then he walked silently up the stairs.

Kira raised her eyebrows in surprise as she watched him go. “That was... nice of you, Scott.”

Scott shrugged with a happy smile, his eyes beginning to droop from exhaustion. Kira smiled back, and leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Then she beckoned to Liam, Brett, and Mason. “Let me drive you boys home.” They trailed after her exhaustedly like she was the pied piper, and the door closed softly behind them.

The only people left were Kevin and Lydia.

Kevin wanted to talk to Scott. Lydia wanted to talk to Scott. Both wanted to talk to him _alone._ The two were involved in an intense staring contest, each daring the other to leave first.

Lydia won, obviously.

“I guess I’ll go check on Stiles.” Kevin said gruffly after putting on his coat, while Lydia shot him a smug smile. “I’ll be back.” he promised Scott. “I’ll be staying at the Sheriff’s house if you need to find me.”

“Be careful.” Scott muttered, any animosity between the two long forgotten. “Theo might be looking for revenge.”

Kevin shot Scott a cryptic look, a look that Scott, oddly, seemed to understand. “You and I both know he won’t come after me.”

“Check on Stiles.” Scott agreed worriedly, his happily tired act (that’s all it was, an act) forgotten. “Let me know what- or who- you find.”

 

Stiles sat in the empty waiting room, twitching his hands nervously. _They don’t know what’s wrong with him... oh god...._

Stiles felt the presence materialize next to him, and scoffed loudly.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here.”

Crowley shrugged, grinning devilishly. “Please. There’s a devil’s trap on the roof of your car. You didn’t leave me many options.”

“You got out of the one in my room just fine!” Stiles snapped. But then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and was calmer when he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I thought my goals were very simple.” Crowley said in mock hurt. “Kill Theo and fix the nemeton.”

“The nemeton’s fixed.” Stiles said bitterly. “We took the bodies off of it. We stopped the Doctors. But if you wanted Theo dead so bad, why the hell send Parrish after _me?”_

“Ah, that.” Crowley said with a sigh. “An unfortunate change in plans. I’m afraid to say I panicked. Finding out your brother was possessed by a fallen angel, Gadreel, nonetheless, was... unsettling to say the least. I wanted to draw him out, make him leave Beacon Hills. Kill him if necessary. I figured the best way to do that was to send Parrish to Scott, who would be with you, and possibly Sam.”

“Well thank you for the emotional trauma.” Stiles muttered. He noticed that Crowley had called the angel Gadreel, and Dean had called him Ezekiel. He noticed, but said nothing, because it wasn’t his problem, not any more.

“I’ve decided to let Theo and his pack of mutants live for now.” Crowley drawled. “You’ll thank me later.” Stiles looked up to reply, but by then, Crowley was gone. Instead, Stiles saw Mrs. McCall, who was walking past him, frowning furiously at a clipboard. Stiles hastily stood up and called for her attention.

 

Back at Scott’s house, Kevin was gone, and Lydia had taken his place.

“A room full of some of the most powerful allies you could ask.” she said bemusedly. “And you sent them away right before things get worse. It’s not over, you know, not by a long shot. Today is going to be a very long day.”

“It can’t be longer than yesterday.” Scott muttered. Yesterday had started with him rising from the dead and deciding it would be a great idea to arrest his best friend.

“Don’t be so sure.” Lydia said seriously. “I mean it, Scott, I can feel it. Something bad is going to happen. Someone’s going to die. Or lots of someones. I thought it was going to be Stiles at the clinic, but he survived.”

“He might not.” Scott said worriedly, keeping his voice low so Isaac and Jackson upstairs wouldn’t hear. “Theo might come after him for retribution.”

Lydia’s glare leveled buildings. “You aren’t serious. I know that’s not true, so do you, and clearly, so does Kevin.”

“Yeah?” Scott challenged. “Well what else do you know? Cause Stiles and I both got the impression that you were hiding something!”

Lydia shrunk back from Scott, shocked and outraged. “What I’m hiding is none of your business! You really want to trade secrets? I was researching Parrish, alright? I might have used some.... unconventional sources of information, but that’s my problem, not yours!”

“Did you do anything permanent, Lydia?” Scott asked.

“No.”

“Can I trust you?” Scott asked pleadingly.

“Of course not, Scott. You can’t trust anyone.”

Those words rang far too familiarly.

Scott blanched. “What do you mean?”

Lydia sighed, and looked at Scott with something akin to pity and disdain. “Oh, Scott, you already know what I mean. It’s why you sent your pack home, it’s why you smile like there’s nothing to worry about, it’s why you’re being so cryptic with Kevin. He knows. I know. You know.”

Scott glowered impatiently. “Know. What?”

Lydia smiled sweetly. “You know what I haven’t been able to understand?” she asked casually, too casually. “Why Stiles got so mad at you for kicking him out of the pack. He had to have seen it coming from a mile away.”

The shift in topic threw Scott off guard. “What does that have to do with-”

“-and I mean, you want to say he was mad that he lost your trust, fine.” Lydia continued, talking over Scott without so much as batting an eye. “But if he valued your trust so much, he would stop doing the reckless things that made him break it.”

“Uh- I- what? Lydia, of course he was mad!” Scott said, but he sounded more confused than correct. “I left him out in the rain like an animal!”

“ I wouldn’t have been mad.” Lydia said with a shrug. “I would have seen it as perfectly fair.”

“But Lydia- I trust you-”

“You shouldn’t.” Lydia said coldly. “I have absolutly not been completely honest with you these past two days, Scott. I played both sides of the civil war and abandoned both you and Stiles when it suited my best interest.”

“But-” Scott started.

“Haven’t you ever heard not to listen to banshees? You’re too trusting, Scott. Everyone knows this. Theo wasn’t the first to exploit this, and I’m certainly not the last.”

Scott had had enough. “What does any of this have to do with Stiles?” he asked angrily.

Lydia looked at him pityingly. “Scott, you don’t have to ask me this. You know the answer. You didn’t send Stiles to the hospital because his father is dying. You sent him there to get him out of your way. You didn’t send Kevin after him because you were worried about his safety. You were worried what he might do. Stiles and Theo are a lot more alike than either would care to admit. I know that you’ve realized this. You may not have heard warnings about banshees, but certainly you’ve heard that you should never trust a fox.”

Scott cocked his head to the side and looked at Lydia with barely controlled anger. But Lydia could see the gears in his head turning. Then something clicked, some spark was set alight in his brain. And then he knew.

Scott sank to the bottom of the stairs, holding his head in his hands. “You’re right.” he groaned. “God, you’re always right. What the hell do I do now?”

“Learn from your mistakes.” Lydia said not unkindly. “And never trust him again. But his father is dying. Maybe you should do something about that.”

Scott nodded, and fumbled for his phone in a hurry. He hit the first speed dial, put it on speaker, and let it ring.

“I’ve been so stupid...” he murmured.

“He fooled us all, Scott. They both did.”

“I should have seen it coming.”

“You did see it coming, Scot. You just didn’t want to come to terms with what you saw.”

“The trap....”  
“I wonder how much Kevin knows.” Lydia muttered. “I should go find him later.”

Scott scoffed. “Something tells me you two would get along. ‘The prophet and the banshee.’ It has a nice ring to it.”

Lydia was about to reply smartly, but she was cut off by a “Hello?” sounding from the phone.

“Mom?” Scott asked.

“Scott?” Melissa said. “Are you alright? What’s been happening? I haven’t heard from you in _hours...”_

Scott shot Lydia a worried look, and she rolled her eyes. “Everything’s fine, mom.” Scott said. “A lot has happened, but I can tell you about it in the morning. Well, later in the morning. I was actually wondering about the Sheriff.”

“John is doing fine.” Melissa said happily, oozing relief, and Scott and Lydia both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding. “He’s on track to wake up soon, and make a full recovery. It turns out there was a bone in his stomach that we missed during his exam, and it was poisoning him, but we removed it and he should be fine.”

“Stiles must be so relieved!” Scott said brightly.

“I hope so!” Melissa said. “He went to get coffee right after we told him the good news. I thought he’d be back soon, but he’s been gone awhile.”

“Well, he isn’t here.” Scott said, hiding the concern in his voice. “Hey, how’d you find out what was wrong with John, anyway?”

“Oh, Stiles told us!” Melissa said proudly. “The doctor didn’t believe him at first, but then Stiles goes on and on about an article he read, and eventually he was convinced- I really hope he’s back soon. The sheriff should wake up by noon-”

Scott wasn’t listening to his mother anymore. He was staring at the stairs with a blank face.

It looked like this time, Stiles was the one who was underestimated.

“You see?” Lydia said. “The mess we had two days ago is gone. It’s all over.”

“What do I do now?” Scott asked again, only this time, he sounded more hopeless.

Lydia was silent for a moment, thinking. “Hm.” she finally mused. “It’s funny, I don’t know. Act normal, I guess.”

“You know,” Scott said. “That’s actually the best advice I’ve received in weeks.”

 

Kevin arrived at the hospital at that very moment. And as predicted, Stiles wasn’t there.

 

Even for Beacon Hills, that morning was an odd one. But like every morning, hours passed, the sky turned lighter, and the sun rose. The sun rose, and its light flooded the Stilinski house, streaming past the wrecked bookcases and clawed up floors of the living room before settling on the staircase, to where Stiles was sitting with his hands clasped, the soft golden sunlight illuminating the ring of mountain ash he was sitting in front of, and the open door just beyond that.

It wasn’t long before that doorway was filled with Theo, who looked down at Stiles and smirked. Stiles squinted up at him, but his gaze held no fear, only cold challenge.

Theo looked amusedly at the mountain ash line, before stepping over it definitely.

“I guess we’re all telling the truth now.”

Stiles scoffed. “Not quite.”

Next to Stiles on the stairs was a grey shirt covered in blood, and a black sword. He picked up the shirt and tossed it at Theo, who caught it expertly.

“You killed my best friend.”

Theo smirked pityingly. “Temporarily. Let’s be honest, Stiles. After today, will he still be your best friend?”

Stiles carefully picked up the slim black sword lying next to him, turning it over in his hands. “Maybe not.” he murmured as he analyzed the way the black sword absorbed the gold sunlight. “Especially not after I kill you.” Then he pointed the sword forward and charged.


	30. We Need To Talk About Theo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the last chapter! Thanks so much for reading! A little bit of housekeeping: so this story goes into full flashback mode, and you might want to re-read chapter 27, 'Devil's Trap,' for some clarity. Also, those italicized paragraphs that aren't part of the flashback are voicemails. This story leaves off in the beginning of 5b, which, if you want, can be perceived to continue for the most part as canon. There may or may not be a sequel or continuation of the series. Thanks so much for reading this and the rest of the series, and enjoy!

Ch. 30

We Need To Talk About Theo

Let’s end with Theo. Stiles didn’t mean to kill him. It’s just kind of one of those things that was supposed to happen. Just like when he killed Alexander, or Donovan, or anything he’s ever hunted with his brothers. He was a hunter, after all, and that meant that sometimes things ended up dead. Sometimes those things could be his friends if he wasn’t careful. So let me repeat myself. Stiles didn’t mean to kill Theo.

Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to. Oh God, did he want to. It would have been _so easy..._ The sunlight was glinting off his sword just right, the space between them was just enough, and Theo’s eyes held just the right amount of fear. There was something in Stiles’ eyes too, some odd emotion too scary to name. It was the same thing gnawing and twisting in his gut, but it wasn’t guilt. No, he hadn’t felt guilt in a long time. This was a special kind of hatred, the kind of despisement that emerges when you stare at your worst enemy and know everything you hate about them is something that you are afraid to see in yourself. Stiles looked at Theo and loathed the eyes that earned people’s trust far too quickly, the mouth that spun the most meticulous lies, the mind that could ensnare even the cleverest fool. He hated that Theo was a mirror, and he hated to wonder when his reflection had gotten so ugly.

It was a known and undisputed truth. Stiles Winchester hated Theo Raeken. But he didn’t mean to kill him.

Which is why he didn’t.

With a yell, Stiles raised his sword, and plunged it into the wall a millimeter from Theo’s body.

“Don’t move.” Stiles said, deadly quiet. “And think very carefully about what you say. Or next time, I won’t miss.”

“What makes you think I’ll give you another opportunity?” Theo said smugly, but there was a breathless panic behind his words.

Stiles smirked. “What makes you think I need a sword?” Slowly, carefully, he grasped the hilt of said sword and pulled it slowly out from the wall, scattering dust and paint into the waiting sunlight, before tossing the glimmering blade away in disgust.

Theo laughed incredulously. “There’s no need to be dramatic, Stiles. You held up your end of the bargain quite perfectly, after all.”

 

_“Hey, Scott, it’s Kevin. I’m at the hospital. Stiles isn’t here. Look, you’re probably sleeping, so I’ll keep this quick. The sheriff is gonna be fine. I’ve been here with him for a couple hours, it’s like... 7:00 a.m. right now? He’s supposed to wake up at noon. In a few minutes I’m gonna go see if Stiles is at the house. I’ll keep you updated.”_

Slowly, slowly enough to drive Stiles mad, Theo reached into his pocket and drew out three ruby-red glistening vials. He threw them to Stiles, who caught them expertly, turning them over in the sunlight.

“Don’t mock me, Theo.” Stiles said seriously. “Or I just might reconsider. What did the Doctors want with these, anyway?”

Theo shrugged, the movement casting shadows on the doorway. “Hell if I know. I was just following orders.”

Stiles squinted. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well that’s your choice, but I’m not going to tell you otherwise.”

“Hm...” Stiles said thoughtfully. Then he threw the vials on the ground, barely reacting to the sound of breaking glass, or the little pools of blood congealing at his feet.

 

_“Kevin, it’s Scott. I’m awake. Look, you aren’t going to like this, but I think you should stay with the sheriff for a while. Stiles will be bound to come by eventually. He’s had a pretty rough night, so if he’s alone and doesn’t want to be found, he’s not going to be found. You’ll get nowhere exhausting yourself looking for him. Trust me on this. Call me if you hear anything.”_

 

“The door to the Doctor’s lair is rigged with explosives.” Stiles drawled, winding and unwinding his fingers together in impatience. “You aren’t getting in there easily.”

Theo chuckled. “Are you forgetting about my electricity-resistant chimera?”

“Not at all.” Stiles said. “And I’ll have you know that if any of them find out about this, I will gut them like fish.”

Theo whistled. “No rest for the wicked, huh.”

“Not even close.”

 

_“Scott, it’s Lydia. Do you think you could explain what that symbol was in the clinic again? And exactly what happened when Stiles ignited the trap? I’m doing some research on Japanese magic. I think I figured out how Theo escaped. Call me. Now.”_

 

“Tell me about this threat of yours.” Stiles said.

For the first time in a long time, Theo looked genuinely rattled. “I’m working on it, Stiles. I have it handled. Besides, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

Stiles scoffed. “I’ve seen a lot, Theo. Heaven, Hell, Demons, Angels.... monsters your precious Doctors would itch to get their hands on. There isn’t much these days that surprises me.”

“This is worse.” Theo said, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“I’m willing to give up!” Theo shouted angrily. “My plan, my idea to kill Scott, I’m willing to give it all up to fight this thing! I’m willing to work with _you!_ Do you believe that?”

Stiles crossed his arms, frowning. “Now that...” he said tentatively, “Is something we can agree on.”

 

_“Dean, it’s Kevin. Stop calling me. I’m not going to answer, and I’m not coming back. I’m going to stay here and look after Stiles, since someone clearly needs to and you’re too selfish to do the job right. Look, I’m not mad. I’m disappointed. I heard about what happened outside of Deaton’s clinic, and I applaud you at somehow making a terrible situation that much worse. I’ll forgive you. Someday. But for now, leave me the hell alone.”_

 

“Can we now?” Theo asked with a quirked eyebrow. “So you’ll agree to stay out of our way? My pack and I need to deal with this, Stiles, whatever it takes.”

“I thought you wanted my help.” Stiles said defensively. “Not just my silence.”

Theo laughed, but it was harsh and strained, not playful like earlier. Underneath the surface he was just as strung out as Stiles. Just as desperate. “You wanna tell Scott about this, fine.” he said bitterly. “See if he ever trusts you again.”

“Oh, he’s never going to trust me, ever.” Stiles said. “That was decided at a rather spectacular sunset. But he’ll kill me if he finds out I met with you. And then he’ll kill you.”

“Well if you’re so loyal,” Theo said. He threw back his shoulders, his arms stretching through the expanse of the room in a gesture that said _come on._ “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

_“Lydia, it’s Kevin. Call me back. Scott says he tried calling you but got voicemail. Look, I know what you talked to Scott about after I left last night. He might have been a little slow on the uptake, but I’m not. I know what’s going on, I know what happened, and no, I’m not surprised. Just disappointed. But you, me, and Scott are probably the only people Stiles trusts to help him, and he needs help, whether he wants it or not. I know you can find him. Call me back. Soon.”_

_“Stiles, it’s Kevin. We need to talk. Although I don’t seem to be the only person you’re talking to. What the hell have you done now?”_

 

Now at this point, you’ve probably realized you’re missing something. And you’re right. You are missing something. Something big. I want you to think back on this story, all the secrets spun into the pages.The plot holes, the missing moments that filled into catalysts and game changes, there’s one specifically I want you to recall. Remember when Stiles and Scott were hiding out in Deaton’s clinic after the nemeton battle, only to be joined by Theo and Mason? It was quite a Devil’s Trap. Mason got hit in the head with a jar and passed out, and Theo ranted prolifically of his shortening time in captivity. There was a crash sounding from outside, remember that? The sound of the hellhound and angel fighting to the death drew Scott away from his prisoner.

_The door closed behind him, and Stiles and Theo were alone. The two glared at each other, utterly silent. Then Theo’s mouth curved into a menacing grin._

_“You know, it’s interesting.” Theo drawled, pacing back and forth with slowly, each loud, calculating step causing Stiles to flinch._

_“What is interesting?” Stiles asked testily, his words dripping with reluctant bitterness. He had no desire to hear anything Theo had to say, so much so that he wasn’t even gloating in his victory._

_“That symbol.” Theo pointed to the odd, star-shaped ward at the center of his cage with disdain. “It’s old Japanese magic. Not a lot of people study that.”_

_“If you’re going to ask how I know about it,” Stiles interrupted sharply, his face a mask. “Don’t bother. You already know.”_

_“Oh, I do.” Theo taunted, a slow, devious smirk working it’s way across his face. “But that wasn’t my point at all. Not a lot of people study ancient Japanese magic. Which means not a lot of people know that that spell is temporary.”_

_Stiles’ stoic face burned into ash. “W-what?”_

_“One tiny symbol that can act as four impenetrable walls for an indefinite amount of time?” Theo mocked. “‘Doesn’t that sound too good to be true?’ It lasts for thirty minutes, maximum. And the more powerful the creature,” he unsheathed the claws on his left hand, analyzing them. “the less powerful the spell. Like I said, I’m not going to be here much longer.”_

_“Y-you’re lying.” Stiles challenged shakily, but he didn’t seem so sure. His eyes were moving back-and-forth frantically from Theo to the innocent looking symbol on the floor._

_“You’d know.” Theo said, no longer mocking. His face was serious, his eyes holding only hints of glee. “Because I’m not telling you any new information, Stiles. You already knew this. You played Scott, and now you’re trying to play me.”_

_It was like a snap of the fingers, quick, swift, and decisive. It was scary, really, how fast, how practiced, Stiles’ face could fall from one of terror to that of cool deposition. His eyes were still. They fixed on Theo with an almost impressive gleam, the grip tightened on his sword, and his mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles. Now he looked victorious._

_“I told Scott not to trust anyone.” he said, casually and coolly. “I said the motives of anyone walking through the clinic were unknown, and we couldn’t be sure of anyone’s true intentions. Of course, when I said ‘anyone,’ I also meant me.”_

_Theo stood a little straighter now, his chin inclined upwards in almost respect. “You’re not the nogitsune, but you seem to have picked up some tips. This was a plan.” he said. “One that Scott didn’t know about. Like before, when you kidnapped me.”_

_Stiles shrugged. “It’s a good plan. Scott’s back on my side, and I’ve got you trapped.”_

_“Not for very much longer.” Theo said._

_“I know. That was intentional.”_

_“So why?” Theo asked, cocking his head to the side as he analyzed Stiles with newfound curiosity._

_Stiles scoffed. “If you figured out that I set the faulty trap on purpose, then surely you can figure out why.”_

_“Lydia.” Theo said. “When you were talking about Lydia. I knew the symbol was temporary the minute I walked into the clinic, but I didn’t know it was intentional until you were talking about Lydia. You said, ‘This changes things.’ But it was clear that you didn’t have a plan to change, unless it was one Scott didn’t know about.”_

_“Lydia, who’s hiding something.” Stiles reminded._

_Theo’s mouth twitched. “And you know what it is.”_

_“I have an idea.” Stiles said vaguely. “A guess. An observation that some things in this story don’t add up, and it’s probably because of her.”_

_“Like what?” Theo asked hesitantly, his wandering eyes a clue of his mind searching for inconsistencies._

_“She knows what Parrish is.” Stiles said. “So do I, so do the rest of us now. But she found out first, and she must know how dangerous he is. But with three supernatural beings at her disposal, instead of looking for him in this chaos, she’s looking for me. Someone told her not to look for him. Then there’s the fact of Crowley impossibly escaping my house.”_

_“Lydia Martin is not a creature who revels in revenge.” Theo said._

_“No.” Stiles agreed. “But she would do something else. The same thing I want to do with you.”_

_Theo’s eyes snapped back into place, with a newly obtained glimmer of understanding. “You want to make a deal.”_

_Stiles nodded._

_Theo frowned thoughtfully. “My freedom in exchange for.... what?”_

_“You know what!” Stiles snapped, and this was the first crack in his cool, heartless demeanor. His pulse spiked, once, and his eyes flashed in anger, once._

_Theo’s frown turned into a cruel smirk. “You’re right, I do.” he said softly. “Oh, everyone’s going to hate you when they find out you let me go. And they will find out, Stiles, mark my words. They’ll congregate around your beaten body and ask, ‘Why, Stiles? Why did you do this?’ But they know too. They know and yet they don’t realize. It’s something everyone’s been saying this entire time, right? Over and over and OVER again! They hear and yet they don’t listen! They look and yet they don’t see! What is it, Stiles? What has been the truth since the beginning of this escapade? What is it that everyone knows and yet no one understands?”_

_Stiles scowled, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke._

_“‘The sheriff is dying. No one can figure out what’s wrong with him. The Doctors might as well be holding him hostage.’”_

_Theo smiled triumphantly. “So many people have said those words, and yet no one quite knew what they meant. No one imagined it would come to this. The Doctors aren’t holding your father hostage, Stiles, I am. You know this. And you want to make a deal. My freedom, in exchange for your father’s life.”_

_Stiles nodded, once, swiftly and without remorse._

_Theo cackled. “What is it with Winchesters and making deals with devils?”_

_“You’re the devil, alright.” Stiles said bitterly. “But you don’t know a damn thing about my family.”_

_“I’ve learned.” Theo said. “And I know that you’ll do anything. Which is why you still need to sweeten the pot. I’ll tell you how to save your father, but only if I’m not the only one who leaves here alive.” His eyes strayed to the horrid pile of dead chimeras._

_“No.” Stiles said, once, swiftly and without remorse. “Absolutely not.”_

_“Do you want to save your father?” Theo asked, grinning crookedly._

_“Not like this.” Stiles said. His eyes swept in horror from one body to the next, settling on ashen skin and extended claws, but never on faces. His eyes snapped back to Theo. “Not until you tell me why.”_

_Theo balked. “Why what?”_

_“Please.” Stiles said disdainfully. “What’s another thing I’ve been saying for the past god-awful day? I was missing something. Something didn’t click. The Doctors didn’t care about your pack, they only wanted you for your experiments. I’ve realized as much. But now you’re a chimera. You can fight back. So tell me why.”_

_Theo sneered impatiently “Why. What?”_

_“Why you’re scared of them.”_

_Theo’s face fell, and just like that, the mask was off. He didn’t look scared, but he looked something he wasn’t nearly often enough: dead serious._

_It was genuine, Stiles could tell. Theo’s head was inclined ever-so-slightly to the ground, eyes cast almost in shame as they studied the floor._

_“It’s not them I’m scared of.” Theo said in barely-above a whisper, his voice cracking with urgency._

_“The last chimera.” Stiles said with resignation, crossing his arms. Theo looked up in surprise, and Stiles shrugged his shoulders. “Scott went on and on about how there’s one kid missing, one more chimera. Sounds like the Doctors have done something they really shouldn’t have.”_

_“I call it the Beast.” Theo said quickly, the words flowing out of his mouth in a low rush. “But it has another name, an old one. It’s powerful, Stiles, more powerful than you can possibly imagine. It will raze this whole town without breaking a sweat, and then move on to the next. And the next, and the next, until the whole world is bathing in-”_

_“Alright, I get it.” Stiles said sternly. He frowned, and took a tentative step forward. “You aren’t telling me this to scare me, too. You’re trying to warn me.”_

_“I’m trying to fight it.” Theo said scathingly. “And to do that, I need-”_

_“-a pack.” Stiles finished bitterly._

_“I’m not telling you how to save your father.” Theo said sternly. “Not until I walk out of here with some backup.”_

_“How do I know my father’s even dying?” Stiles asked, looking away from Theo._

_“How do I know that you’ve figured out a way to take out the Doctors? What is it you’re always saying, Stiles? I’m observant, so are you. You know that it has to come down to this. One thing I’ve learned about Winchesters is that they can always spot a liar.” Theo spread his arms out and shot Stiles a serious look. “Do I look like I’m lying?”_

_“You look like you’re desperate.” Stiles shot back. “The two can often be so similar.” It was true. Theo’s face was gaunt, his eyes tired. His smirking mask had fallen to very, very real despair. No, he wasn’t lying. But John Stilinski was dying. Stiles needed to think fast._

_“Well let’s make another deal.” Stiles said with zero enthusiasm. “You clearly want the Doctors gone. You don’t want a part of their bigger endgame. And you’re right, I have people stopping them right now. Three Doctors, three chimeras. You bring back three chimeras, and you leave the Doctors. Let them rot in their lair. That’s my deal.”_

_Stiles’ words fell to the floor with a dull thud! and he wanted nothing more than for Theo to pick them back up. Theo instead, however, tilted his head to the side, lips pressed together in thought._

_“Four.”_

_“What?” Stiles snapped._

_“Three doctors, yes, but I’m saving your father, too. I want four chimeras.”_

_Normally, this would be where Stiles would be smart, try to outsmart his enemy, swindle Theo out of getting what he wanted. But there was a ticking clock, and it pounded in Stiles’ head like thunder._

_“Fine.” Stiles said with a scowl. His eyes strayed to the lone body on the steel table. “But not him.”_

_“Please.” Theo said, voice dripping in disdain. “I’m not a big fan of history repeating.”_

History repeating.

_It always came down to this, didn’t it._

_“‘What is it with Winchesters and making deals with devils?’” Stiles asked the floor with a soft sigh. The floor, unsurprisingly, did not answer._

_But Theo did._

_“There’s a bone in your father’s body.” Theo said, and his voice sounded.... odd. Not entirely devoid of remorse. “It’s from the chimera that attacked him. It’s slowly poisoning him. Find the bone, take it out.... and he lives.”_

_Stiles swallowed, and nodded, once, sharply._

_“You have about ten minutes.” he said thickly, his eyes suddenly burning from the need to.... well, to what, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t cry very often. “Ten minutes before the trap dissolves. From how worried Scott was earlier, it seems we have a bit of a beneficial distraction.”_

_“I never wanted it to come to this, Stiles.” Theo said. “I never lied about why I came to Beacon Hills. I didn’t come here to hurt you, or even to kill Scott. I just wanted a pack. The other chimeras, the Beast.... picking a fight with you, none of this was supposed to happen.”_

_“Well it did.” Stiles said, eyes glassy. “Have fun burning down the world, Theo. It’s a shame that’s the price for a good man’s life.”_

_It was a challenge, and it hung in the air, ripe for Theo’s taking. It was an outlet for Stiles’ anger, words and air to pummel so he could scream, so he could cry, so he could say it wasn’t his fault he set free a monster._

_Theo’s not-quite-soft eyes sharpened into a glare, and he opened his mouth to speak-_

_\- but then Scott came back in and those eyes twisted into mirth, that mouth trapped in a smirk, Stiles’ eyes dry and cold, his gaze oppressive._

_“He say anything?” Scott asked, looking back and forth between the two opponents._

_“No.” Stiles replied, under Theo’s watchful eye. “Nothing.”_

 

And now here they were. A different kind of devil’s trap. Theo could smell the salt and iron in Stiles’ home, and wondered if it was really true that his brothers hunted demons. Surely if it was, they would have been knowledgeable enough to recognize their own brother as the devil in disguise.

Stiles hadn’t moved, hadn’t answered to Theo’s challenge. Theo scoffed, and dropped his arms with a huff, leaving them to slap against his sides in disappointment.

“I knew it.” Theo said disappointedly. “You’re a coward. Even when you have nothing to lose, you still won’t bite first. You should be ashamed to call yourself a hunter .”

“You know what, Theo?” Stiles said seethingly. “Shut. The Hell. Up. You’re a monster, and I don’t give a damn what you think of me.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Theo said with a shrug. “But I’m still your only hope at taking down the Beast.”

“And how are we going to do that again?” Stiles asked sardonically. “Oh that’s right, you haven’t said.”

“I have a plan.” Theo said, and Stiles shivered. Those words sounded way too familiar.

 

_“Lydia, it’s Scott. Where are you?”_

 

“We need to get into Eichen House.” Theo said. “There’s a doctor there, Valack. He knows even more about the Doctors than I do.”

“Great.” Stiles said. “I’m sure you have no ulterior motives at all.”

Theo glared, his unamusement reflecting off of the sunlight. “We agreed to work together Stiles. We never agreed we were on the same side. Of course I have ulterior motives. But you’ll have to find out about them the old-fashioned way.”

“Whatever.” Stiles said dismissively. “We get someone in on the inside and stage a rescue mission. Sounds easy enough. Lydia will do it. She’s a great actress. All we need her to do is fake some banshee stuff, cry a little for the camera, and boom! We get ourselves a redhead ninja behind enemy lines.”

Theo’s eyes had a glint that Stiles couldn’t quite decipher. A smirk that wasn’t quite there.

“I actually agree. Lydia needed to go to Eichen House.”

“Great!” Stiles said. “You’re still a sociopath, but awesome, we agree on something.” He waved dismissively, turning away from Theo back to his ruined living room (he was gonna kill Kira for that.). “You can go now. I mean, unless you _want_ to stick around and wait for Scott to find you-”

Stiles stopped speaking as he turned to stare at a sudden weight on his shoulder, a hand that Theo had placed there. Stiles turned again, towards Theo’s outstretched arm, so that he was once again facing Theo in the doorway full of sunlight. Only this time Theo’s smirk was a little more pronounced.

“Lydia needed to go to Eichen House.” Theo said tonelessly.

“She _needs_ to go to Eichen House.” Stiles corrected. “I know.”

“You misunderstand me.” Theo murmured devilishly, his hand patting Stiles’ shoulder in an almost comforting gesture. “It was crucial to the plan. Lydia needed to go to Eichen House. So I put her there.”

_-Her scream was muffled as claws dug into her neck, into her spine, the crunching sound of skin and bone unbearable to even the perpetrator's ears. Her body went limp, mouth open in an unfinished scream, her body deposited like garbage for some unlucky deputy to ‘accidentally’ find-_

“You BASTARD!” Stiles yelled, the force of all the anger in the world behind his words, and this time he didn’t even think. He punched Theo square in the face, and Theo stumbled backwards into the doorway with an _oomph!,_ blood seeping from his nose into his depraved smile, staining his laugh red.

“There we GO!” Theo exclaimed, breathing heavily. “That’s HIM! That’s the Stiles I know! Not some helpless creature at the mercy of werewolves, but the bastard that drags his devils down to hell with him!”

Stiles retracted his fist, also breathing heavily, and looked with satisfaction at the blood speckled on his knuckles. He smiled. He’d been waiting a long time for Theo’s blood to be on his hands. And suddenly, his world sharpened, focused around that blood. Everything changed. Suddenly the crimson dripping onto the tarnished floor didn’t look so menacing. Suddenly Theo’s laugh wasn’t quite so threatening. Suddenly the sunlit morning was a lot more black and white. Suddenly, at that exact moment, Stiles realized that his piling problems were nonexistent, that everything was in fact very simple.

Theo seemed to notice the shift. His gleeful smile faded into the sunrise, his sleeve came up to wipe his bloody nose. “Stiles?” he asked tentatively.

 

_“Stiles, it’s Scott. I don’t know where you are, but if you’re running from me... you shouldn’t. Lydia talked to me last night. She told me some things that I didn’t want to, but needed to hear. Kevin talked to me this morning. Both of them have a pretty good working theory on why the Sheriff miraculously healed. I can’t imagine to know what you’re going through, not even close, but when you decide to come out of the shadows, I’ll be here. I want to know everything, though. No more secrets this time around. I want to know everything, from what your hunts were like with your brothers to what the hell happened with them this morning. We need to talk about Alexander, we need to talk about Mystic Falls. And if we want to stop this week from ever happening again, then Stiles, we need to talk about Theo.”_

 

“Here’s the thing, Theo.” Stiles said, and his words weren’t heavy, they were as light as air, and floated through the house like spring. “We may be facing the same adversary, but mark my words, we are still enemies. The moment the beast is dead, I’m coming for you, and that is a promise. And here’s the thing about us Winchesters. We tend to take our promises to the grave.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Stiles.” Theo said. “I don’t have to be your enemy just because Scott says so. You’ve proven that you don’t need your pack. You outsmarted everyone all on your own. You don’t have to be at Scott’s beck and call.”

“I’m not.” Stiles said joyfully. “This is my own decision. It’s called having friends, Theo. Maybe you should try it sometime. I’ve been so wrapped up in packs and ranks that I forgot that I’m human. And what matters to me isn’t who my alpha is, it’s who my best friend is.”

“You’re insane.” Theo mumbled.

“You’re just getting that now?” Stiles asked with a winning smile. “I’ve had a revelation, Theo. If I kill you, if I keep our little operation a secret, well, I’m no better than... you. You and I, we don’t deal well with desperation. We’re the ones with the dirty hands, the secrets, aren’t we. We’re the ones that cover up our murders because being human isn’t nearly enough of an excuse. That blood bleeding from your nose? That was me, being desperate. The master plan that got everyone hurt? Well, that was a little of both of us. But I’m not going to be like you, not anymore. You’re the last devil I’m dragging down.”

“You’re going to tell them, aren’t you.” Theo said, but he didn’t sound very surprised. “You’re going to tell them everything you’ve done over the past two days.”

“You’re not going to have anything else to hold over me.” Stiles said. “No more secrets. It started with Donovan. It ends here.”

Stiles took his fist, his fist smattered in blood, and opened it up to reveal a little silver knife. The knife Theo had taken from him ages, hours ago. “You were meaning to give this back, right?”

Theo’s shoulders slumped in defeat, but his eyes alit with something akin to respect.

“You really think that’s going to work?” Theo drawled, but it sounded forced. False. “What, one new leaf, and suddenly you’re a good guy, again? You’re never washing the blood from your name, Stiles.” Theo looked around them, at the far too innocent setting for two far less innocent people. “What’s to stop you from ending up right back here with me?”

“Now that’s one riddle I’m surprised you haven’t figured out.” Stiles said knowingly. He thought about the long day seeping into his bones, the exhaustion leaking into the sunlight, and the monumental tasks ahead of him: Saving Lydia. Defeating the Beast. Finding the heart to forgive Sam and Dean. And writing a ton of thank-you-notes to Jody, Derek, and co. “Really, Theo, I’m shocked. You want to know what’s going to stop me from history repeating? My pack. They’ll fight tooth and claw to ensure that this will never happen again.”

“How?” Theo challenged, tilting his chin upwards in defiance.

Stiles smiled, a wondrous expression he hadn’t used in quite some time. “It’s simple, really. If there’s one thing my friends have learned while staying sane in this crazy town, it’s to never, ever trust a fox.”

Theo looked bewildered, and Stiles took the opportunity to raise a single index finger and push Theo forward, out the doorway. Then he slammed the door in his face.

It could wait. It could all wait. Stiles knew, as he stumbled up his own stairs, he knew that he would wake up surrounded by Scott and Kevin, by their not quite angry eyes, by Liam and Kira’s remorseful ones, Parrish’s confused expression, Mason’s determination, and maybe, it he was lucky, a reproachful Isaac and a reluctant Jackson. Maybe even a forgiving Malia. But that could all wait.

Theo was still downstairs, still shuffling around the doorway hoping Stiles would come back down and be his willing little monster. Next to him was the Beast, the Doctors, the chimeras, Dean’s stone-cold face and Sam’s ice-blue eyes, Lydia’s imprisoned body, Scott and Kevin’s shattered trust. They were all waiting for him downstairs, outside the front door, just within reach.

But they would still be there the next day. The next, hopefully not as long day. He could deal with them then.  
For now? Stiles was getting some sleep.


End file.
